


Family Secrets and Plaid Shirts

by mabrkbc



Series: Canada to Lebanon, Kansas [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 60 000 Words, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Cults, Darkness, Dean Winchester's Freckles, F/M, Falling In Love, First Time, Kidnapping, Mark of Cain (Supernatural), Minor Character Death, Teenager, Vampires, Violence, Werewolves, dr sexy MD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:41:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 28
Words: 67,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25178605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mabrkbc/pseuds/mabrkbc
Summary: After surviving a traumatic incident at work last year, you find yourself caught up in a family conspiracy that thrusts you into the Winchester's path.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s), Dean Winchester/You, Lucifer (Supernatural)/Original Female Character(s), Lucifer (Supernatural)/You, Original Female Character(s)/Original Male Character(s)
Series: Canada to Lebanon, Kansas [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2174883
Comments: 58
Kudos: 131





	1. Chapter 1

In retrospect, the moment Mark showed up at Wal-Mart during my evening shift should have been my sign that something wasn’t quite right. While he is my cousin, we aren’t exactly close due to the large age gap, the distance between our homes, and just general lack of interaction between our immediate families. Him showing up wanting to chat and check in with me was incredibly strange, but I brushed it off. I could never have guessed, even with a thousand guesses, what his visit was going to mean for me and how much my life was about to change. Nor did I realize how entangled I would become with not only him, but my grandfather, father, uncle, and the very tall brothers that wandered past me not ten minutes later.

Working customer service at Wal-Mart was quite possibly the most miserable job I could have found myself at the age of 16, and now, two years later, I’m counting down the days until I leave my little town for the city. In exactly 26 days I move into my first dorm room in university and start classes three days after that. Until then, though, here I stand. Green peppermints in one pocket, pens in the other, my nametag worn down, and my phone tucked into my back pocket just in case.

We aren’t usually allowed to have them on us, but there has been a lot of violence locally lately, so the managers want us to have them on us if we can in case something were to happen, and we can’t reach a landline in time. Frankly, after the stabbing last summer, I don’t work a shift without it in my back pocket and a very small pocketknife tucked into my front pocket. My dad bought it for me when I came home covered in blood and sobbing one day because one of my coworkers had been stabbed by a meth head trying to get enough money for his next fix.

Marie caught him stealing and he instinctively attacked her, protecting himself and his interests. I just happened to be the person who ran up right behind her and I was the one to catch her when her body couldn’t handle the pain. I remember looking up at the boy, and really, he was only a boy, and seeing the fear in his eyes. His hands were shaking but he still had the knife out and was pointing it slightly at me, as if to warn me to stay back. Letting Marie fall back onto my lower body, I slowly put both hands up to show him I wasn’t going to do anything, and he bolted.

I don’t know if the police ever found him. Our security tapes weren’t great and being one of two people who could possibly identify him, I spent a long time watching them. There was no clear shot of his face, he was moving too much as he walked. They never brought me in for the lineup they said they would have if they got a lead, so I tried to move on. What I do know is his body was found torn to shreds by a wild animal just a few weeks later. The town speculated and gossiped and panicked, thinking we had feral coyotes or wolves around us, but that was the only attack.

The morning the news broke of his death, I was getting ready to go into work for the first time since Marie had been stabbed. Wal-Mart paid for me to attend intensive therapy for three weeks fearing media backlash after the story went national. There were reporters hanging around the parking lot for weeks, trying to find out who caught Marie, but no one would let it slip. The famed picture, one taken from security footage, shows me practically diving forward to grab her as she brings her hand to her abdomen, eyes wide in surprise and panic. The next one they liked to show had Marie laid out on the ground, my vest wrapped around the wound, and my hands desperately pressing down to stop the blood flow. I’m never identified, thankfully, because the next day, Marie died in the ICU and I couldn’t handle it. I was only 17 and already I had tried to hold someone’s body together and failed.

His death brought all the reporters back but this time no one cared about me or who I was. My mom called in to work for me 20 minutes before I was supposed to arrive because I was frozen in place watching the police move around the scene on the TV. I kept thinking, _I’m the only one left_. How is it that a tragedy that involving myself and two other people happens, and within the span of a few weeks, the other two are dead. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. My mom tried to rationalize it for me, the therapist let me cry and scream and talk in circles, but my dad was the most helpful. He found me later that week, after the initial shock wore off, and sat me down with a beer. Not even thinking about it, I immediately downed it as fast as I could. Being underage didn’t mean shit to me that whole week and considering everyone kept handing me drinks, I don’t think anyone else really cared either.

My dad let me finish the beer before he smiled gently at me. “Pumpkin, I don’t know how you’ve done it, but you’ve become a national hero. It doesn’t matter that no one knows your name or knows how old you are, it doesn’t matter that everyone else feels they should know your story. I know what you did, and I have never been prouder. Sometimes shit happens to good people but the best people say, ‘fuck it’ and become a better person because of it. You can do that, hell, you _are_ doing it.” He laid his hand on my shoulder, gave me a gentle smile, and left me to think about that. I don’t know when my dad got so wise, but he was right. I could do this.

Standing behind my desk, though, there were times I would catch a glimpse of red near the spot and my heart would start to race. Or someone would fall, or I’d hear the _swish_ sound the knife made when he pulled it out. They gave me a new vest after, because mine was completely ruined and police evidence anyways, and let me keep Marie’s nametag. So, I often stand at my counter with her nametag in the pocket with my pens, just running my fingers over the sticker with her name to reassure myself. It became somewhat of a nervous tick a long time ago, so now it comes with me most places I go. Her name was very quickly fading away, but management would print me a new one before I left – I’d already asked.

I’m already subconsciously touching it when Mark wanders up to my desk. He’s stumbling a little bit, as if he’s had a drink or two, but his eyes are wide open and bloodshot. I haven’t seen him in a few years, so it takes me a second to recognize him. The moment I said his name, he smiled at me.

“Hey kid, how ya doing? How’s Wally-world treating you?” His voice sounds a little rough, like he’s been shouting at the top of his lungs for a few days. He puts an elbow on the counter and leans on it.

“Yeah, I guess it’s good. Counting down the days though, it’ll be nice to finally get away from here.” My extended family knows I was here the day of the stabbing, but as far as I know, they don’t know how involved I was. My eagerness to get out could be interpreted as general excitement for university, trauma, or hatred for my job – which admittedly is one of the worst I could have found.

“Good, that’s good. Your daddy said you were itchin’ to get the hell outta here. Speaking of, you seen ‘im lately? Like, around here?” He blurted all this out without taking a single breath, which made me wonder what he was on.

“Uh, no, not really. I mean, I’ve been at work for most of the day today and yesterday, and he’d been away for work the days before that this week. I’m not sure if he’s home or what, why?”

Mark’s left eye twitched. “Oh, I just need ta talk to him bout something, don’t you worry your pretty little head about a thing. Got his phone number handy for me?” His phone appeared in his hand as if by magic and he glanced down at it. He frowned slightly seeing something on his screen, then shakes his head slightly. He slides past it into his contacts.

I raised one eyebrow at him and don’t say anything at first. If he talks to him enough to know I can’t wait to leave, then why doesn’t he have his phone number? How did he get that information then? My fingers run over Marie’s name slowly. I can’t put my finger on it, but he’s making me a little nervous and uncomfortable. Out of the corner of my eyes, I see two very tall men whispering to each other heatedly. One of them looks up and meets my eyes for half a second. There’s something familiar about his face but I don’t have time to ponder that. Mark is still waiting.

“Uh, sorry, I’m not allowed to have my phone on me at work, so…” I trail off, hoping he takes the non-answer and leaves. Mark narrows his eyes at me. He glances around us quickly before leaning across the desk.

“Look, Liss, I ain’t messing around here, I really need your daddy’s phone number. I got myself in a bit of trouble, so either cough it up or I’ll find your phone myself and give him a call,” he hisses. For a brief second, his eyes seem to turn yellow. I blink a couple times and it goes away. I give him a tight smile and rattle off the number. His empty hand reaches over and grasps my arm tightly. “Thanks, kid. I’ll see ya soon.” With that, he turns and shuffles away. Not five minutes later, the tall men follow suit and leave the store.

I’m shaking a little bit and can feel my hands sweating. Marie’s name tag is getting warm because I’ve been rubbing it so much. Trying to shake it off, I glance at the clock to see that my shift is done. I breathe a sigh of relief and call over to the manager on shift that I’m done. He nods slightly and tells me to have a good night. I head to the back to put my vest away, tuck Marie’s nametag into my jacket pocket as I put it on and find my car keys. Remembering that I left my purse at home, I double check that my ID and bank card are tucked in my phone case in case I get pulled over. I also want to swing by the beer stop and grab a case before I go home. I should have the house to myself tonight, which means a drink or two so I can get some sleep.

Satisfied with my plan, I walk to the front doors. It’s dark when the doors slide open and my eyes take a moment to adjust. I start to walk in my car’s general direction when I hear a loud shout. I glance up and see three men arguing. Mark is one of them and he’s yelling at the other two, the tall men I noticed inside. I stop for a second, wondering if I should call somebody, when the tallest man reaches into his pocket, I see a flash of silver, hear a loud pop, and watch Mark’s body drop to the ground almost in slow motion. I don’t know if I make any sound at all, but I freeze for a moment. Just in time to see one of the men turn around slightly. I drop to my knees behind the nearest car, hoping he didn’t see me, and reaching for my phone.

_Why does this keep happening to me?_


	2. Chapter 2

My fingers are trembling as I reach into my back pocket for my phone. I can hear a heated whispered conversation across the parking lot, as I continue to hide behind the car. Finally getting my phone out, I hit the power button. Nothing. I try again. I hold the button and the screen lights up briefly to tell me I need to charge my phone. Crap. Now what?

Someone’s starting to get closer. They’re trying to make their footsteps light but the closer they get, the louder they are. Panicking, I try to find an escape route that doesn’t give them a clear shot at me. Going back in the store isn’t an option – I can’t put more people in harm’s way. By the time I decide to just bolt across the parking lot to the fast food restaurant that isn’t very busy, it’s too late. As I start to stand, a large hand closes around my left wrist and _pulls_. A surprised shriek falls from my lips as my head spins around to see who it is.

One of the tall men, the blonde one, is standing right behind me. His right hand is wrapped around my left wrist, engulfing it due to the size difference. His arm doesn’t budge as I try to jerk away, but his eyes narrow slightly. His mouth is set in a stubborn glare levelled at me. Finally, he pulls me closer and pushes me towards the other tall man. He has long brown hair and I have to actually look up to meet his eyes. He still holds the gun used to kill Mark and I can’t look at it. I keep my eyes on his face, because if I look anywhere else, I’ll have to see Mark’s body and I don’t think I can handle that right now.

Everything around me seems fuzzy, like it’s moving slower. The men are speaking to each other, but I can’t make out any of their words. It isn’t until Blondie shakes my arm a little that I realize they’ve been talking to me as well. I blink a few times to clear my mind before I glance back at him, sure he can read the fear in my eyes. “What?”

He sighs, giving the other man a _look_. “I asked if you’re okay.”

Frowning, I look between the men a couple times. Then I shake my head. “How can I be? You – you just…” my voice breaks, “you just shot my cousin.” Blondie’s grip gets tighter and I grunt, renewing my efforts to dislodge him. “Ow, c’mon, let go, please. I’m not going anywhere, I promise, please just let go of me.”

“You said-” Blondie starts, before the taller man blurts out, “He’s your _cousin_? Are you…are you human?” I gaped at him. _They’re insane, holy shit. What did Mark get himself into?_

“Human? What the fuck else would I be? Of course, I’m human, dumbass!” I snapped at them and Blondie snorted. I couldn’t tell if he thought it was funny or I was being rude, so I glared at him anyways. Brunette reached into his back pocket and the gun disappeared somewhere, but a silver knife replaced it in his hand. He slowly started to reach towards me, apprehension on his face. I jerked backwards, stumbling into Blondie. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

Blondie took this opportunity to grab my other arm and hold me as still as he could. Brunette gave him a brief grimace that could have been a smile under other circumstances I suppose and touched the knife to my bare skin. I waited for him to do something with it, but he just held it there for a moment before pulling it back with a frown. “What the hell…” he muttered to himself. Blondie’s grip lessened a little bit. Not quite bruising level, but definitely not light enough I could slip away without a fight.

“Okay, explain this to us. How can you be human when your cousin is a-” Brunette started to ask before something huge leaped at him and tackled him to the ground. For a second, in the dark, I thought it must be a wild animal of some kind because I could hear what sounded like growling. But the thing turned its face towards Blondie and I and it was vaguely human. Vaguely familiar too, but I brushed that off because I had to be losing my mind. No way this animal – it has to be an animal, what else can jump like that and make sounds like that – is also a human. Blondie pulls me backwards forcefully before letting go of me with a shout.

“Sam!” He steps in front of me and pulls out his own gun, pointing it down towards the thing attacking the taller man.

Hyperventilating a bit, I start to back away. I don’t understand what the _fuck_ is happening here, but I do know that I want absolutely nothing to do with any of it. I’ve had enough trauma and tragedy for a lifetime, thank you very much. However, they’re not quite done with me yet. I get one more step in before I hit another warm body. I spin around, ready to attack if I have to, but see a familiar face.

“ _Uncle Keith_?” He gives a slight nod before taking my arm and pulling me closer to him. He stands in front of me slightly as though to protect me, but the other three aren’t paying me any attention at all anymore. Blondie is still trying to get a shot at the thing, and the tall man is still wrestling with the thing on the ground and losing quickly. The thing swipes at his face and even in the dark I can see the deep gashes it makes and the blood that immediately starts to pour from the wounds. Someone screams. Uncle Keith turns his head to me and shushes me and that’s when I realize the scream came from me.

Uncle Keith snarls at the men and they all turn slightly to look in our direction. Keith is slightly bent over, not quite hunched, but as though he’s about to attack, and I’ve got his bicep in a death grip. I sneak a glance at the thing on the ground and the familiarity starts to clear up for me. If you take away the yellow eyes, the teeth, and the hair, it kind of looks like…

“Holy shit,” I whisper. I quickly let go of Keith’s arm and step away from him, eyes wide. Blondie is tracking me with his eyes, but his gun is trained on Keith. The tall man takes advantage of the distraction I’ve so graciously provided and quickly stabs the thing on the ground in the heart. Within seconds, my theory is proven correct as the eyes fade, the teeth disappear, and the hair falls away. “No!” I scream, “No!” Jolting forward to do I don’t know what, I can already feel the tears falling. Keith throws his arm in my way to stop me and pulls me to his chest.

“Shh, it’s okay. I won’t let them hurt you. Just stay behind me, sweetheart,” he says quietly before spinning me around to face him. I already know what I’m going to see, so I close my eyes tightly. I can hear the tall men behind me standing up and whispering to each other angrily. Hot tears continue to spill down my cheeks. I don’t understand how this happened.

“Dad…” I choke out, looking back over my shoulder at his body. I know what I saw before but now it just looks like the dad I grew up with, the one who comforted me when I needed it the most. The one who promised to keep me safe. Blondie takes a step forward, gun held loosely in his right hand, left hand up in a peaceful gesture.

“Okay, let’s just take a moment here, before we do something we regret,” he says calmly. Ignoring my uncle, I whip back to face him.

“ _Before we do something we regret_?” I hiss at him. “You just _killed my dad_ and you want me to _take a moment_? After you shot my cousin in cold blood? Are you fucking kidding me?” He grimaces and glances at the tall man. Brunette shrugs, not taking his eyes off my uncle, who is breathing heavily behind me. He takes a step forward and Keith growls, putting his arm around me and pulling me back to him. His nails dig into my right shoulder and it hurts a lot more than it should. “Uncle Keith?”

“Don’t say another word, kid,” he snarls. Blondie grips the gun with both hands again and slowly raises it towards us. I freeze, panicking. Uncle Keith just snorts. “You ain’t gonna shoot, son. You hunters – you’re all about protecting the innocent. And if she ain’t innocent,” here, he pats me on the cheek with his free hand, “I don’t know who is.”

“Okay,” Blondie grunts and lowers his gun. “Just let her go and we’ll all just walk away from here.” I frown at him, more confused than ever. I go to ask him what he means, but Keith’s arm moves up and his hand comes over my mouth. I can feel blood slowly dripping down my shoulder from where his hand was, and I shiver.

“What did I say?” he asks me. Then he takes a step back, pulling me with him. He laughs, a deep, dark laugh I’ve never heard come from him before. “That’s what you’re missing here, fellas. I don’t need to let her go; I’m not going to hurt her. She’s family. She belongs to me. You, on the other hand, you I want to hurt. That’s my big brother you just took down.” He points to my dad’s body. Then he puts his hand on my shoulder, digging his nails into the wounds he’s already opened. “And this, this is my niece. My niece whose life you just destroyed in the blink of an eye. You hunters, always forgetting about the collateral damage.” His nails dig even deeper and I whimper, trying to pull away. Brunette winces and watches me closely.

“Look, man, you’re hurting her. She’s not going anywhere, okay? Neither are we, just take your hands off her,” Brunette says calmly and evenly. At some point, his knife disappeared and he’s holding both his hands out to us. The tears are still spilling from my eyes, though now they’re more from pain than anything else. Keith laughs again and swipes his hand down my arm as hard as he can, leaving long, deep gashes so much like the one on Brunette’s face. I scream, the sound muffled in my uncle’s hand and bring my left hand up to push on the wounds. I can barely see at this point through the tears and I’m definitely hyperventilating now.

“That’s what you’re still missing here, boys. She’s _mine_. She _belongs_ to _me_. I can hurt her if I want to, I can do whatever the fuck I want to her. Because at the end of the day, she’s mine now.”

My uncle has never been a scary man. He’s ten years younger than my dad and he and I have always been incredibly close. He’s my favourite uncle by far and one of my favourite people. We go out for dinner and movies every month, he taught me how to drive, bought me my first case of beer, and he’s the one who tried to scare off the first boy I tried to date. Uncle Keith has been a constant presence in my life for as long as I can remember – but he’s always been a teddy bear. Until now. Now, he’s scaring the shit out of me and I don’t even know what he’s talking about.

I reach up to his hand to try to pull it away from my mouth. He lets me, because I doubt I could’ve done it if he really didn’t want me to, and I take a deep breath before speaking. “What the hell do you mean, I ‘belong to you’? I don’t belong to anyone. I’m eighteen years old.”

“Oh sweetheart, you have _so_ much to learn. But not tonight. I may have been a little too harsh because I can smell a lot more blood than I should be able to. So, here’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna get these two to take you to the hospital to get fixed up. You tell the nurses it was a rabid dog that attacked you and let them call the cops or whatever. The second you’re cleaned up, you hightail it out of there and go home. I’ll come for you tomorrow sometime. If I get there and you aren’t there, princess?” He lowers his voice and gets closer to my ear. “Your mom and little brother won’t be coming home either. Don’t disappoint me. You belong to me, and I always get what’s mine.” With that, he lets go of me, shoves me towards the men as hard as he can, and takes off. I lose my balance and fall to my knees on the pavement, crying out in pain. Blondie tries to get a shot at him but it’s too dark, and Brunette is already on the ground helping me stand up.

When I’m on my feet, I look between the men, slightly hysterical. There’s blood running down my arm, tears on my face, I’m sniffling up a storm, and I’m not sure I’ve ever been so shaky in my life. I think they know I need some kind of answer right now to find my footing, so Blondie puts his gun back where it came from and smiles gently. “It’s okay, kiddo. My names Dean, this is my little brother Sam. We’re here to help you, I promise.” I nod, then drop unconscious into Sam’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a plan for this story, but I have literally no idea how quickly I'll get it done. BUT I love seeing the hits go up and the kudos warmed my heart, so please comment or whatever and let me know what y'all think!!


	3. Chapter 3

_In my dream, I see dead people. Specifically, I see my dad and his dad. They are standing across a river from me, a loud, twisty, rushing river. I can see them, and I can see their mouths moving but I can’t make out what they’re saying. I try to tell them this, but no sound comes out. I can hear the howling of a wolf getting closer and closer until it sounds as though the wolf is standing right behind me. Dad and Grandpa are shouting now, waving their arms at me. I have no idea if they want me to run, to jump in the river and swim for my life, or to give in and join them on the other side._

_If I squint, I can see tears rolling down my grandfather’s cheeks when he realizes I can’t understand him. He places on hand on my father’s shoulder, as though to comfort him, but it looks like he’s putting all his weight on Dad’s shoulder. What’s wrong with him? I try to move forward, thinking I’ll just risk the swim, but my feet won’t move._

_It’s then that I feel the hot breath on my back. Whatever is behind me is breathing heavily but isn’t moving otherwise. I take a deep breath and turn around, much to my father’s dismay. He raises his hands up again to shout, but it is no use. I’ve already seen what’s behind me. It’s not a wolf, nor is it a man. I don’t know what it is, but my eyeline is only at its chest. It’s wearing a very tight black shirt that covers what is clearly a very muscular chest, and even larger arms. It appears to be flexing its muscles as it watches me take it in. There is extra hair, almost like fur, all over the bare skin, but that doesn’t make sense. The body looks human. Human bodies don’t have fur. One of its hands comes up to my chin and pushes my head up, forcing me to look at its face._

_The smile is both blinding and sickening, sharpened teeth as yellow as the sun grinning at me. Bright yellow eyes that stand in contrast to the dark of its clothes. A single scar above an eyebrow, so faint I can barely see it. In fact, the only reason I can see it is because I was the one who put it there, by accident, when I was five. Because I was the one that fell into the well, the one who had to be rescued, the one who needed her uncle to be her hero. And that uncle was a hero, a hero who bled for his cause when he was pulling me out._

_Keith smiles at me and I shiver. It is not a comforting smile or a welcoming smile, but a sinister one. One that promises pain and suffering. One that reminds me he isn’t entirely human, but something else altogether that I don’t know anything about. He leans closer to my face, close enough that a stranger might think he was about to kiss me. His breath is hot on my face and his fingers grip my chin tight so I can’t pull back._

_“I’ll be waiting for you. Don’t fuck this up, sweetheart. You still have so much to offer me, and I_ will _take what I’m owed.”_

My eyes fly open.

The ceiling is crisp and white, and I can hear hushed movement all around me. Something tightens around my arm and then beeps a few times. I feel more than hear the curtain open and the nurse walk up to my bed, but I still can’t tear my eyes away from the ceiling. It’s clean and new and pretty to look at and it doesn’t hurt me and it doesn’t _want_ to hurt me.

“Miss? Can you hear me?” I nod slightly. The nurse sighs a little before taking the blood pressure cuff and heart rate monitor off. By the sounds around me, I’m guessing I’m in the emergency room, in a bed in one of the bays. I’ve been here before. The second the thought enters my head, my fingers search out Marie’s nametag. It’s not there.

I bolt upright, whipping my head to look at the nurse. She looks startled at my sudden movements even as I blurt out my question, “Where is it? The nametag, it was in my pocket. Maybe the pocket of my jacket? I can’t remember. Where’s my jacket? Did you take it out of my pockets? Where-”

The nurse finally moves out of her trance and shushes me. “You’re alright, you’re in the emergency room. Two young men brought you in, said you’d been attacked by a wild animal of some kind. You’ve got some pretty nasty lacerations on your right shoulder and you received over a hundred stitches. Lucky for you, they’re the dissolving kind, so you just have to keep the bandage on for ten days. Don’t get it wet if you can help it, but we’ll send you with extras just in case. We also have you on an IV drip to make sure you stay hydrated because the painkillers may make you nauseous. The police want to talk to you about the attack as soon as possible. They already have a group out looking for the wolf, but they haven’t had any success yet. And the two young men who brought you in are still waiting for you in the hallway and I believe they have your things. Would you like me to bring them in?” At your quick nod, she leaves the room. When the door opens next, you see the two tall men.

Seeing your blank stare as you try to remember their names, the taller one steps forward with a soft smile. “Hey there, it’s good to see you awake. It’s been a couple hours; we were starting to get worried. Not sure if you remember who we are, you passed out pretty much immediately after we told you our names. My name’s Sam and this is my older brother Dean. We’re going to help you.”

“Do you have my nametag? The one that says Marie on it? It was in one of my pockets and I really need it.” You glance between them. Dean is holding your jacket and what looks to be a plastic bag with your phone and keys in it. The brothers share a look, probably wondering why my first thought is a stupid nametag, before Dean starts to fish around in my jacket pockets. He pulls the nametag out within thirty seconds and hands it to me. I reach for it with my right hand and immediately cry out in pain. I look down to see the bandages covering my arm and shoulder and wince. I try again with my left hand and Dean drops it in my hand. I close my eyes at the familiar feeling of the nametag and rub my fingers over the name a few times to settle. Already I can breathe easier.

“So, Marie,” Dean starts but I cut him off.

“I’m not Marie. My name’s Melissa. Melissa Wallace.”

Sam frowns slightly. “But the nametag…”

“Long story.” I don’t say any more than this. I keep my eyes closed and hold onto Marie’s nametag like it’s the only thing keeping me alive. Sometimes I think it might be.

“Um, o-okay,” Dean stutters. “Melissa. How are you feeling? Better?” I shrug slightly, wincing at the stretch in my right shoulder. “Right. We have some questions for you, then. About last night. Did you know any of those men?”

I open my eyes slowly to take him in. His blonde hair is slightly messy but still looks nice. His green eyes remind me of emeralds, my mom’s favourite gem. His lips lay flat on his face, tight due to stress perhaps. I can’t tell. I sigh.

“The first one you…” I can’t bring myself to say it out loud. Plus, the nurse did say the police wanted to talk to me. Who knows what they would think about random strange men shooting people in parking lots. “ya know, that was my cousin Mark. The one that, um, the other one is – was, _was_ my father. Uncle Keith was the one that did this,” I say and gesture to my right arm. I feel like a robot saying all this, but I can’t process what is happening right now. All I know is my dad is dead, my uncle is a monster, and –

Shit! “I have to go home right now,” I say and shoot up to my feet. That was a mistake, one I pay for when I almost fall over from dizziness. Sam manages to catch me and help me lean back on my bed. I’m still wearing my jeans, but I don’t have a shirt on. “Do either of you have my shirt?”

“Slow down, kid. Back up. Those werewolves were all family members? But you aren’t a werewolf. I don’t get it,” Dean says and crosses his arms. Sam huffs and looks at him from where he’s kneeling with me.

“Dean, shut up. Melissa, are you okay? Can you stand up now?” He holds out a hand for me to take and helps me slowly stand on my own two feet. He smiles at me again and doesn’t let go even when he can tell I’m balanced. “I think the nurse said they had to cut your shirt off, but I grabbed you a spare one of mine for now.” He hands me a grey t-shirt that looks like it could fit a grizzly bear. I choke out a laugh and hold it up against my body. Dean smirks.

“Yeah, Sasquatch over here doesn’t know when to stop growing. Answer my question and then Sammy can help you to the bathroom like a good little nurse.” Sam makes a face at him as I think.

“I don’t really know what the answer is. I mean, I know I saw something last night, I don’t think I can deny that. But I have no idea _what_ I saw. You’re saying werewolf but like, isn’t that only in the movies and books? That can’t be a real thing,” I whisper. It feels like the temperature has suddenly dropped twenty degrees and I shiver and clench my fingers around Marie’s nametag even tighter than I had been. Both brothers frown at what I’m saying.

Sam opens his mouth to say something, thinks better of it, and closes his mouth. Then he opens it again. “So, your dad never told you…”

“That he was a werewolf? Yeah, how about no,” I scoff. “I would’ve had a hard time believing him anyways if I hadn’t been there last night.”

“Could it be a family thing? Passed down through the generations maybe?” Sam asks, more to Dean than to me. Dean seems to think about this before shaking his head.

“Can’t be. If it was, they’d all be werewolves and we’d have noticed them a lot earlier than this. As it is, we can only find that one other case where a body was found.” My eyes get wide and I look up to Dean.

“What case?” I know before he even says his name.

“Turner Anderson. You knew him?”

I snort softly. That’s an understatement. But what he’s suggesting…could someone in my family have killed him? Did my dad? My uncle? How many people are monsters? Maybe everyone is and I can’t see it because I am too. Could I be a monster, a werewolf, without knowing it? I gasp softly.

Did _I_ kill Turner?

“Kiddo, hey!” Dean. He’s crouched down in front of me now too. “You with us?” I swallow and nod.

“Yeah,” I croak. “I knew him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little shorter than I wanted, but it just seemed to have a natural end. I'm so excited seeing all the hits and I so so appreciate the kudos and bookmarks!! Comment and let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh thank you for all the kudos and the kind comment!!! I'm now in quarantine thanks to a friend of mine (she's a server at a popular tourist spot and got exposed) so I have buckets of time and I'm hoping to spend it writing.

Sam and Dean don’t say much after that, noticing how distraught I’ve become. They stay silent when the nurse comes back to discharge me and help me put on Sam’s shirt. Dean silently hands me my jacket and, after glancing out the window, I slip it on over my shoulders. The nurse hands me some gauze packages to take home and paper instructions on how to care for my stitches. I struggle to give her a small smile before I thank her for all her help. There’s just one thing we all forgot about.

The brothers are walking alongside me out of the ER when someone runs up behind us. Both men stiffen and shift closer to me. “Excuse me, are you Miss Wallace? I just need to ask you a couple questions before you go home.” I turn around to see a shorter man in a police uniform giving me what he probably thinks is a reassuring smile. Then he blinks and it turns into a real smile. “Melissa? God, I haven’t seen you in forever! How are you?” His face falters for a second when his eyes shift to my shoulder. “I mean, not now but…in general, I guess.”

It takes me a minute to remember who he is before it finally dawns on me. “Jeff? Oh my god, I didn’t recognize you at first, when did you become a cop?”

He laughs softly. “Not long after I graduated actually, my dad helped me with the depo. Anyways, I’m sorry to do this, but can I ask you a couple questions about what happened?” He nods towards my shoulder and pulls out a small notepad. I shrug.

“Not much to tell but sure.” I can feel the tension radiating off Sam and Dean as I speak. “I was leaving work and it was pretty dark out. I walked to my car which was parked in my normal spot when some kind of animal jumped on me. It sliced my shoulder before these two came out of nowhere and scared it off somehow. I was pretty out of it by then, and all I remember after that is them asking if I’m okay. Then I woke up here.” Jeff looked at the brothers suspiciously.

“What were you doing there?”

Sam replied when Dean hesitated, stiffening in defense. “We had just left the store a few minutes before but I got a phone call from a family member. My brother drives a classic car so I wanted to finish the call before we started driving so I could hear them.”

Dean snorts behind me. Under his breath it sounds like he mutters “bitch.”

Sam shoots him a look before continuing. “The call took a little longer than planned and when I hung up, we heard a low growl come not far from us, before a blood curdling scream. We ran to the sound and found her soaked in blood underneath what looked like a wolf. It looked up and saw us running and took off. We then called 911 and followed her here to see if she was okay.”

Jeff writes everything down. “Okay, well that all seems to be pretty consistent. It’s not the first attack we’ve had around here; we should’ve got the bastard the first time around. I’m sorry to make you go through this all again, Mel. I know it must be tough.” He puts his hand on my good shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. “Here’s my card. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call, okay?”

I nodded. “Thanks Jeff. I hope y’all find it soon. Two attacks…it’s two too many for me.” He nods before turning and walking back into the hospital. I look up at Sam, frowning. “Um, correct me if I’m wrong, but…”

Sam raises his eyebrows. “What?”

“Shouldn’t there have been, uh, bodies there?” I whisper. Dean takes that as his cue to step in. He puts his arm around me and spins me around and we all start to walk back to his car. All I remember is that it’s black and it looked old. Neither of the brothers say anything on the way over. Dean opens the back door for me and makes sure I’m comfortable before closing it. They both get in, Dean starts the car, and we pull out of the parking lot.

“Where do you live, kid?” Dean asks over his shoulder. I frown, confused.

“Aren’t you just going to take me back to my car? I mean, I kinda need it and I don’t even know you guys.” Inside I’m panicking. Keith didn’t say to be alone, but I don’t think he would take too kindly to the brothers accompanying me home and potentially being there when he arrives to do whatever it is he thinks he’s going to do. I shiver slightly, more scared of my uncle than I’ve ever been of anyone. Including Turner. But maybe he can give me some answers to the questions that have been burning ever since I woke up. Namely, is there something wrong with me? Am I going to hurt someone the way he hurt me? And the one question I’m not sure I want an answer to: could I have saved Marie if I’d known about this? If I’m a monster, or whatever, then I should’ve been strong enough to stop him or to save her, but I wasn’t.

Fingers snap in my face, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Hey! You with us?” I can see the brothers exchanging worried looks even in the dark of the car. “That’s the second time you’ve zoned out on us mid-conversation.”

“Huh? I don’t…it just happens sometimes,” I mumble. I don’t exactly want to tell them it’s what my therapist calls a trauma response. My brain goes into overload and can’t handle everything at once, so it filters out all external stimulus in an attempt to calm myself down. Or make me crazier. Jury’s still out on that one. But I’m not about to tell two strange men with weapons that I’m crazy.

Sam looks skeptical but moves on anyways. “We were just saying that we would prefer to keep watch over you for the next day or so just in case. Those men were all related to you somehow and –”

“And you want to make sure you don’t have to kill me too.” Dean slams on the brakes and turns to look at me.

“Kid, if we thought we would have to kill you, we’d have done it last night when you were unconscious and we’d be far away from here by now. We’re doing this because we don’t have to but we think someone else might try to. Based on what I saw and heard last night, something isn’t adding up and I think you’re at the middle of it, or at least somewhere off to the side. Which spells danger for you and you’re just a kid.” His eyes bore into mine and he seems so sincere that I have to look away. _I_ know I’m in danger. I didn’t know they knew it too.

Regardless, it’s not their problem. I try to smile. “Don’t worry about me, guys. Not the first time, apparently won’t be the last. I’ll be fine.” They exchange another look. Dean raises an eyebrow at Sam and Sam nods. They both turn back around and Dean starts driving again. I think I’ve won but Dean doesn’t take the exit he should to go back to Wal-Mart. He takes the exit as though he’s going to my house and I panic. “What…what the hell are you doing? Where are you going?” My voice probably sounds shaky but I can’t help it. We got lucky last night but I absolutely cannot watch another person get hurt in front of me ever again. No way in hell.

“To your house, kid. Gave you a chance to tell us on your own, but Sammy here checked your license while you were out in case you were stubborn. You’re being stubborn so,” he waves his hand at the road to conclude his statement.

Oh god. “You went through my wallet?” I yell at Sam. Did he find it?

“Just to find your license, it was in the front tab. That’s all,” he says quickly. I narrow my eyes at him to see if he’s lying. Finally, I just decide to accept it because they’re going to my house and they’re probably going to know more about me than anyone does at some point tonight anyways. I lean back in the seat and look out the window at the slowly brightening sky.

“It’s the white one,” I say softly. Dean’s eyes shoot to me in the rear-view mirror and he give me a little nod after a second. The rest of the drive is quiet.

I’m desperately trying to keep my eyes open by the time we pull into my driveway twenty minutes later. My phone says it’s almost 6 in the morning and I have no idea how long I was unconscious for last night. I need some sleep. At the same time, I have no idea when to expect Keith and I still want to try to get the men to leave me here.

Sam all but carries me from the car into the house, front door not being locked. Living in the country meant we never really locked our doors because it was unlikely anyone would ever stumble across our house. When I think about it, though, I’m not actually sure we even have a key for our front door because it’s inside the garage and we just rely on that. Sam lays me on the couch in the living room before going back outside. I groan as I move to stand up before deciding that sitting is enough effort for now.

Dean and Sam return with a duffle bag each. One looks like a normal duffle bag, filled with clothes, but the other has an odd shape to it. I can’t help but stare at it warily as Dean sets it down on the kitchen table. He notices my attention and shuffles his body so that he’s concealing the bag from me. Great.

Sam sits on the loveseat that’s kitty corner to the couch and drops the duffle bag on the floor. “Okay, we need to come up with a plan.”

I turn my head to stare at him now. “A plan? For what, exactly? What do you think is going to happen?”

Dean scoffs, but keeps his back to his. Sam sighs. “We heard what your uncle said to you before he left, Melissa. We know he’s coming back for you. We don’t understand why, but we’re not going to leave you unprotected until he’s taken care of.”

“Dead. Just say dead. That’s what you’re going to do, isn’t it? You killed Mark, killed my dad, and now you want to kill my uncle. Anyone else you’d like to take a swing at? My baby brother perhaps? My mom? Since you seem to be so convinced that I’m not a threat, who exactly do you think is a threat? And who gave you the right to decide that?” I’m out of breath by the time I’m done talking and I’m getting choked up. I haven’t allowed myself to think about my dad yet but now that I have, the sight of his body lying on the ground seems to be permanently etched into my eyelids. How the fuck am I going to explain this to my mom?

That gets Dean’s attention. He finally turns around and comes to crouch in front of me and looks me directly in the eyes. “Your dad, and your cousin, were not human. I know you’re scared but I also know you saw what we saw. My brother and I, we’re hunters, and that means we hunt things that aren’t quite human but mean humans harm. Your family could’ve gone their whole lives without us knowing they were here if they stuck to animals – or, better yet, didn’t turn other people into werewolves in the first place. But all bets are off when you kill a human. Got it?” He waits for me to nod before he stands up again. “And sweetheart? No one gave us the right. We worked for it and we took it.”

I shiver at the implication of that statement. “How do you know?”

Sam cocks his head. “Know what?”

“Who’s human and who’s not? Is there like a special sign or something?”

Sam’s about to answer when my phone goes off. I glance down to see a text from an unknown number.

_I know I didn’t exactly say this, but I expect you to be alone when I come for you. Tell those two jackasses to leave or things will get very messy very quickly._

I don’t have to say it. We all know who it’s from. I look up at Sam and Dean, terror in my eyes. “Please,” I whisper. “He’ll go after my brother. He’s only seven, please, _please_ don’t let him get hurt.”


	5. Chapter 5

An hour later, I’m finally alone in my house. Mom and Anthony are away at a soccer tournament until tomorrow night so I know they’re safe until then, at least. The clock on the stove reads 8 AM but I’ve never been this exhausted in my life. I pull Marie’s nametag out of my pocket and lay back down on the couch with it in my hand. There’s nothing I can do now but wait, so I might as well get some sleep.

It felt like I’d just drifted off to sleep when I felt someone’s eyes on me. I hadn’t gotten nearly enough sleep to make up for last night, but I felt at least a little more rested. Which was good, because I was pretty sure I knew who I was going to see if I opened my eyes. So, I kept them closed. I had no idea what I was going to say when I saw him.

“Alright, kid, open your eyes. I can hear your heartbeat. You ain’t sleeping.”

Fuck. I sat up slowly and opened my eyes to see Keith leaning against the doorway across the room, smirking at me. He looks human right now, nothing like he did last night, but apparently looks can be deceiving.

“Atta girl. Now.” He steps forward and crosses his arms, staring down at me. He looks like he’s thinking really hard about something, and then he turns to grab a kitchen chair. He spins it around so the back is facing me and he leans over it. It’s a lot closer to the couch than it needs to be, but I’d bet money it’s so I don’t even think about running anywhere. As though I would. I want answers. “Here’s what’s gonna happen. We need to talk about a few things, clearly. You’re going to make a couple phone calls. Then you’re going to pack up whatever clothes or items you think you need to keep and we’re going to leave.”

My mouth falls open. “Leave? What the hell are you talking about? Where are we going?”

He smirks. “All in due time, kid. But first, I would guess you got questions for me. Now’s your chance.”

I paused. How many questions can I possibly ask him to draw this out so I have more time? I have a feeling that when he says leave, he means forever and I’m not doing that. I’ll find a way to kill him with my bare hands before I abandon what’s left of my family forever. “What are you?”

“Oh, an easy one! Lemme guess, the hunters didn’t fill you in? They only ever want to be heroes but not clean up their messes. Little ironic if you ask me.” He laughs and I roll my eyes. _I didn’t ask. Get to the fucking point_. “I’m a werewolf, Melissa. So was your dad, so was Mark, hell, so was your grandfather. So is every other first-born son in the Wallace family. It’s sort of a…family tradition I suppose you could say. There’s a governing council and everything. Lucky for us, it’s taken a bit of a turn to a dictatorship.” He winks at me. “Now that Gramps and your dear old daddy are gone, the power falls to me. And I have some new ideas people aren’t gonna like, but they’re either gonna fall in line or they’re gonna fall. Mark was supposed to be on my side, but he wanted to tattle to your daddy, that’s why he was there last night. But shit if it didn’t work out perfectly.”

I’m shaking. I can _feel_ the anger surging through my veins the more he talks. For such an easy question, he sure made it fucking complicated. “I don’t understand. Does that mean…does that mean Anthony is a werewolf? And when,” my voice cracked, “when would he start…ya know…”

“Alright, no. When I say first-born sons, I literally mean only first-born sons. Unfortunately for me and your daddy, neither of us had a son first. He had _you_ ,” a look of scorn comes my way, “and I’ve got a stepson but that counts for nothing. But your daddy, he was the first-born son of our dad and his mom, and I was the first-born son of our dad and _my_ mom, so we got a loophole. No one else has that. You either get one or you get none. Up to now, anyways. And it ain’t a blood thing, blood don’t work like that. No, at a certain point, the council decides it’s time to bring in the next generation and we initiate whoever is eligible and then they’re bitten. We lock ‘em down for a few weeks to help them learn and then we send them back home. No one’s the wiser.” He grins at this, very proud of this system. I have a lot of doubt that he’s had any say in the creation of this system, but he seems to thrive on the secrecy of it all.

“Um, so then, w – what does this have to do with me? I’m not a boy and I’m barely an adult so I doubt I’d make a good uh werewolf,” I say, stumbling over the word. It still sounds fake, something out of a movie, but I can’t deny what I saw last night, and I certainly can’t deny the giant slash marks on my arm.

His grin is almost feral, and it makes me shiver again. “Oh, baby, this is the good part. I was hopin’ we’d get to this nice and quick. See, your gramps was, for all intents and purposes, the president of the pack. The leader, the alpha. When he died, it passed down to your daddy. It’s generally a bloodline thing unless that line runs out, then there’s a vote. Because we’ve been so goddamn selective about who we bring in, the bloodline runs out usually every hundred years, or so they say. But now, now I’m the boss. Which means things are gonna be changing real quick. And you’ll have your part to play, princess, don’t you worry.”

My brain is running a million miles a minute and I can’t keep up. I have so many questions and none of this is making sense. “Okay, so, let me see if I understand.” He nods and waves at me to go ahead. “You’re some kind of werewolf because someone in our family bit you, just like they bit Dad and Grandpa. Y’all are a super-secret society with like seven members because only first-born boys are good enough. You have a weird council that maybe is supposed to be democratic but is also kinda monarchy, but now that you let my dad and Mark get killed, you think you’re gonna run it like some kind of psycho-monster-dictatorship. And somewhere along the lines, I’m in there?”

He huffs and no longer looks quite so happy. “First of all, you don’t talk to me like that. You show me respect. That’s non-negotiable.” I rear back.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize we were _negotiating_. If I had, I’d’ve told you that there’s no way in hell I’m up and abandoning my life simply because you told me to. You haven’t even told me why yet, but I can promise, if we’re negotiating? The answer will be no.”

The smile is back, but this time it’s cold and dangerous. “Oh no, sweetheart, that part ain’t negotiable. You’re coming with me whether you like it or not. Only difference is if you’re doing it locked in the trunk or with a duffle bag of your stuff.”

Oh my god. “You’re _kidnapping_ me?”

He shrugs. “You’re eighteen. I don’t think it’s kidnapping at that point.”

“ _That’s not the point_ ,” I hiss. This was officially too much for me. It all seemed a little crazy and unrealistic up until now, but now – now he was under the impression that I was actually going to go along with whatever psychotic idea he had cooked up just because he said so. I stand up. He stands up the second I do and reaches out for my shoulder. I immediately pull backwards. “I’m going to the bathroom. Do I need permission, or can I still pee in my own fucking house like an adult?”

He narrows his eyes and slowly sits back down. “You watch your tone.” I scoff and turn to leave. “You have exactly four minutes before I come drag you out. Don’t go getting any ideas about fighting me either. You won’t win.” I gulp and give him a short nod before going to the bathroom down the hallway. I close the door gently and lean back against it heavily. Tears are pooling in my eyes and I have to fight them back or risk having a complete breakdown. Now is not the time.

I reach into the pocket of my shirt to grab my phone. It’s still on thankfully, so I take it off speakerphone and turn the volume down. “Did you hear all of that?” I whisper. “Did it make sense to you?”

Sam’s voice comes back to me, calm and reassuring. “Yeah, we got it all. All you have to do is stall for another five, maybe ten more minutes, okay? We’re gonna get you out of there soon.”

“And kill him, right?” He’s silent for a moment. “Right?” I whisper desperately.

“We’re gonna get you out of there. Be ready. Don’t hang up,” he says. I sigh. I pull the phone away from my ear, turn the volume down and speakerphone back on, flush the toilet, and start to wash my hands. I’m drying them when Keith knocks on the door.

“Four minutes is up, kid.” I open the door and glare at him. I go to return to the living room but his arm comes up to stop me. “Ah ah, not this time. We’re done talking. Time to pack, Liss.”

I meet his eyes, terrified. I thought I had more time to talk. I need more answers and Sam and Dean need a lot more time. My uncle pushes me towards my bedroom, and I have no choice but to go. He stands at the door of my room and pushes me in. I turn back to look at him, but he stays in the doorway. “Pack. You got five minutes.”

I turn around, trying to remember if I even have a backpack in here, let alone a duffle bag. Deciding to check the closet, I walk further into my room, shaking. If they don’t get here in the next five minutes, I’m screwed. And I still don’t know what he wants from me. Or what it means that he wants to turn his little democracy into a dictatorship. But none of it spells out a good time for me.

I find a small duffle bag at the bottom and methodically start to put things in it. The basics, like pants and underwear, but also the blanket I won in a silent auction a few years back that has holes in it from camping and letting the sparks fall down on it. The necklace I got from my great-grandparents before they died. A sheet of photobooth pictures I took with Anthony last year. Nothing too big, but the little important things. Of course, Marie’s nametag is always with me in my pocket, and I always wear the ring my parents gave me on my eighteenth birthday. Something for every person I love the most.

I can tell my time is running out when Keith starts to hum. He seems pretty confident in himself right now, and that scares me more than anything. I finish putting some clothes in the bag and look to see if there’s anything else I want. I grab my book reader and my journal and set them on the top. Keith takes a step forward when I pick up the book reader and gives me a look. “It’s not a tablet or an iPad, or whatever. It’s an ereader or whatever. Literally just books.” He holds his hands up and goes back to his spot in the doorway, looking at his watch. Just as I decide I want to take the shell my mom’s parents gave me last year, Keith taps his watch excitedly.

“Time’s up! Let’s hit the road,” he lets me grab the shell before he grabs onto my injured arm and starts to lead me out. He ignores the grunt of pain I let out and while he walks, I try to close up the bag so nothing falls out, since apparently this is all the stuff I own in the world now, aside from what I’m wearing. “So we’re going to have to leave your mom a note. I don’t want her sniffing around or trying to get the cops involved. She needs to think you’ve finally cracked and taken off or something. You know what, they’ll have to find your dad’s body soon, if they haven’t already, so that’ll be your reason. He died to save you from the big bad wolf,” he chuckles at his poor humor, “and poor, sweet, weak Melissa just couldn’t take yet _another_ death on her conscious. Criminal and Marie and Daddy make three, don’t they?” he says harshly, grinning down at me.

I’m barely fighting back the tears now. “Four, actually,” I whisper.

“What?” he snaps.

“Four. Marie, Turner, Mark, then Dad.” I bite out, refusing to look at him. We’ve stopped in the kitchen to find paper and a pen. He pushes me down into a chair at the kitchen table and tells me not to move. My eyes track him around the room, hoping against all odds that Sam and Dean might make it. I can’t hurt my mom like this. Keith makes a noise that almost sounds like a laugh and holds up paper and a pen so I can see them. He puts them in front of me on the table and leans over my shoulder.

“Okay, let’s see,” he mumbles. “What to tell mommy…”

I don’t pick up the pen. This isn’t real. My uncle is not kidnapping me. I am not about to write my mom what probably amounts to a suicide note given the sound of Keith’s plans. My dad is not dead. I did not watch two more people die last night. Everything is fine.

But of course, it’s not. Because that’s the moment Keith hears something I can’t and growls. I turn around to see him shift from human to werewolf in point two seconds and almost fall out of my chair. Standing up, I start to back away as he looks around him, looking for whatever it is he heard. I’ve backed myself into a corner when he seems to figure it out and he starts towards me.

The front door gets kicked down at that moment and the room fills with smoke. Keith lunges for me just before I hear a shot. Seems fitting that all hell would break loose at the absolute last second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> told y'all I was bored. here's another chapter. maybe you'll get lucky and I'll do three days in a row ;) (LOVING the response!!! Even managed to tell my fiance I'd started writing again) (but no way in hell are they allowed to read this)


	6. Chapter 6

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that no matter whether a weapon is friendly or not, it’s a threat. For example, the knife Turner used to stab Marie – threat (obviously). The guns currently held by Sam and Dean – threat, but not to me. Keith’s very long, very sharp claws – threat. I think. My brain is trying to understand where my safest position is or who is least likely to harm me, and I can’t quite figure it out. Logically, the person without the weapon will not physically harm me, but the person with the weapon can protect me from other people with or without weapons. Somehow a shooting in my kitchen done by two very tall, handsome, monster-hunting brothers against my psychotic werewolf uncle has turned into a philosophical question in my mind. Is this a trauma response? Have I seen too many violent things? Who could say (a psychologist could, but who has time for that?). Only when it’s almost too late do I actually clue into what’s happening.

Keith has an iron grip on me and seems to be using me as a human shield, but the brothers are no longer shooting. We all seem to be at a standstill but thanks to the gunshots I have no idea if anyone is speaking. My ears are ringing and no one is moving. Keith is shaking slightly, either due to anger, fear, or anxiety, I would guess. This doesn’t bode well for him and my understanding from his weird, super vague plan is that I have a part to play. Which means he doesn’t actually want to hurt me. Not fatally, anyways.

“Alright boys, enough playing. Put the fucking guns on the table where I can see them.” Sam and Dean look at each other before Dean nods slightly. Sam locks eyes with me as they slowly lower their weapons to the table, and I try to give him a weak smile. “Okay. Good. So, uh, what are ya doing here? Did my lovely niece tip you off?” he bites out, shifting me to his side. He puts his arm around my shoulders and holds me tightly to him, and I whimper as I feel the claws come out where his hand is on my upper arm. Dean glares at my uncle while Sam winces in sympathy for me.

“No,” Dean says emphatically, “We’ve been tracking you since you ran off last night. You aren’t exactly what they’d call inconspicuous. Plus, you gave away your whole fucking itinerary last night. Wasn’t that hard.” Keith stiffens at that. I can feel his pulse racing as he tries to find a way out of this that doesn’t involve a bullet in his heart. Personally, I’d prefer a version where I manage to get out of this in one piece with no more blood exiting my body.

“This ain’t any of your business. You should just go home and forget you ever heard or saw anything, cause there’s a whole bunch more where I came from. And they’ll be looking for revenge if you kill not just two but three of us in less than a day. Two of their alphas too.” He whistles low and chuckles darkly. “Yeah, that won’t go over well. And _everyone_ knows the Winchesters. You can’t hide.”

“Oh, buddy, you got no idea what we can and can’t do. You’re right about one thing, though,” Dean laughs and leans forward slightly. “We’re the _fucking Winchesters_.” All the lights go out. All the blinds close. The doors to the basement and the living room slam shut. It’s pitch black in the kitchen and I can’t help it. The moment the doors close, I let out a sound that’s some cross between a shriek and a sob, before something pushes me to the floor. I can feel someone reaching for my hand, either Sam or Dean, but I can’t quite reach them. Keith is still right next to me, though not holding quite as tightly as he was. There’s a loud _whoosh_ like a strong breeze just came through and then everything goes silent. For probably thirty seconds, we all just sit still. There’s no game plan.

A gun cocks.

Keith pushes me forward just a little bit and moves to crouch behind me. Once again using me as a body shield, he shuffles towards the front door. I stumble backwards with every step he takes and can’t make heads or tails of where the brothers are because they haven’t made a single sound, other than the sound of the gun. For all I know, they haven’t even breathed.

Until we reach the doorway. Keith reaches up behind him and clicks the lock and at the same time, a hand wraps around my left wrist and _yanks_. I grunt with the pain as my shoulder leaves its socket, but Keith finally loses his grip on me. The second he’s no longer touching me the lights turn back on.

My hand comes up automatically to cover my eyes and by the time I can see again, the front door is wide open, Sam and Dean are both on their feet with guns in their hands, and there’s a third man just outside the front door looking at the driveway. I can hear the gravel flying as Keith peels out of the driveway but no one else is even moving. From where I’m sitting against the wall, I look up to the brothers. Neither one is making eye contact with me. They’re whispering to each other as they tuck their guns away and only look up when the stranger comes in the house and closes the door behind him. I shoot to my feet and back up quickly as he walks towards me. He doesn’t stop. I look to Sam and Dean, but they aren’t paying attention.

“St-stay away from me. Don’t…stop!” I squeak. I mean to say it more forcefully, but I’m completely overcome with fear. He does come to a stop, but he reaches out with his hand, as though he expects me to take it.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you. My name is Castiel and I am an angel of the Lord. I’m here to help.” A hysterical laugh bubbles out of my chest and I slump back against the wall I’ve hit. I can feel tears rolling down my face and my hands come up to cover my face as I continue to laugh and cry. I can hear people walking around but I just don’t give a damn anymore.

“Melissa? Hey, kiddo,” Dean says as he touches my shoulder. “You’re, uh, you’re bleeding a little. Cas here can help you with that. You gonna be okay if he comes a little closer?” I nodded, still giggling a little, wiping the remaining tears from my face. Castiel steps closer and puts two fingers on my forehead. I squint my eyes, waiting for something to go wrong. I get really hot for a moment, feel a stabbing pain, and then…nothing. I open one eye and look at Dean. He nods, giving me a slight smile. Opening both eyes, I roll my right sleeve up and carefully peel away the bandage. The skin is completely clear, not even a drop of blood.

I look up at Castiel in awe. “Holy shit, that actually worked!” All three men laughed, and I blushed. “Okay, sure, laugh at the kid who found out this shit exists like 18 hours ago,” I mumbled. “Not like I’m having an existential crisis or anything.”

Dean claps me on the shoulder. “Ain’t we all,” he says as he helps me stand up.

“You have to pack a bag, one a little more comprehensive than what he said. Wallet, passport, whatever other identification you have, medicines, you name it. Whatever you need to live. We got to hit the road as soon as we can,” Sam says, holding out my backpack.

I frown and look between the men. “But…Keith is gone. Can’t you just, like, I don’t know, find him again? Kill him?” Before I finish speaking, Sam and Dean are already shaking their heads.

“We didn’t actually find him, though. We came here with you, this morning,” Dean gives me a look, like he’s worried I’m forgetting things, “and staked it out. We know nothing about him and frankly, if we stick around and leave you unprotected, it sounds like there’s a few wildcards out there we can’t prepare for right now. Sammy and I want to make sure you’re out of the line of fire and then Cas and I are gonna come back and clean up.”

“Oh,” I say. Turning to go back to my room and repack, I remember something Keith said and whip back around, eyes wide. “My little brother, he said – he was going to –” I stammer, panicking.

Castiel nods. “He said something to that effect as he left. I will go and watch over them while the Winchesters take you someplace safe.” With an odd flapping sound, he disappears. I blink several times in succession, sigh, and start down the hallway again. Dean snorts and goes outside, while Sam follows me down to my room. While I take things out of my backpack and add other items, he leans against the door frame, eerily resembling Keith from not too long ago.

“How are you doing?” He sounds genuinely concerned about me, and I guess that would make sense. Although I’m eighteen and technically an adult, I occasionally feel like I just became a teenager like yesterday. Of course, at the same time, I feel like I’m thirty-five years old with all I’ve seen. While I ponder his question, I pull Marie’s nametag from my pocket.

“Do you know about what happened to me last year? Was it in the report or whatever you read on Turner?” Sam hesitates for a moment, eyes narrowed as he thinks, before he shakes his head.

“I don’t think you were mentioned. He had a lengthy rap sheet though. Did he steal something from you? That’s the gist of the file we had, that he was a thief.”

Snorting, I shake my head. “No, well, yeah, but no. He was a thief and then he came into Wal-Mart to steal something and uh,” I sigh and hold up Marie’s nametag for him to look at. “Marie was a greeter and she asked him if he had a receipt when he was leaving. He – he panicked I guess and when she took a step towards him, he took that as a threat. He stabbed her. I was on my way to the bathroom from my desk when it happened, and I was also the only one who saw it happen. I,” my voice breaks, “I held her until the paramedics came. Turner sort of held the knife to me to warn me off I think, but I just wanted to help Marie, so he took off. I didn’t care, Marie was gushing blood and her eyes were closed. At one point I was doing CPR, but when the paramedics got there, I basically had my hand _inside_ her stomach, trying to hold her together. It didn’t work. She died less than twenty-four hours later.” Sam takes in a sharp breath and hands back her nametag. “I was seventeen. They found Turner’s body a few weeks later. My name was never released or anything because I was a minor and technically nothing happened to me, but it was this stupid media craze for a while. So, I had a lot of time off work and more free counselling sessions, courtesy of Wal-Mart, but eventually I just went back. The only difference was I had her nametag and whenever I felt panicky or nervous or heartbroken, I would hold onto that for dear life. It’s my security blanket, if you will.”

Sam nods along with my story. When I pause, not sure how to continue, he comes into the room and sits on the floor next to me. He puts his hand on my knee and says he’s sorry with the most sincerity I’ve ever heard. I meet his eyes and I know he gets it. There’s a look you get when you’ve had to hold someone who’s dying, and I see it reflected in his eyes. So, I take his hand for comfort and keep talking.

“I guess, the point I’m making, I’m not as fragile as I probably look. I honestly think I’m in shock what with all the death and injuries and weapons and strange people suddenly disappearing in my kitchen, but I can handle this. Probably. I hope.” I give him a small smile that he returns and close up my backpack. I have everything I need. We stand up and I follow him outside to the car. The beautiful, beautiful car.

Because they had driven me home early in the morning, I hadn’t gotten a very good look at it. But now, in the daylight with a clear head, I could probably be drooling. She’s a beautiful black chrome that’s reflecting the sun she’s so spotless. The interior is all leather, and looks almost original, if a little newer. The engine is positively _purring_ and I can’t help but walk alongside her, trailing my hand along the body, just taking her in. My dad collected classic cars for a while and we would put them in shows and he taught me all he knew about them. We would detail them together, restore them, test drive them, and take turns showing them. He loved to sit and watch me brag about the car. If anyone asked who the owner was, he’d instantly point at me, saying, “That would be my girl, in the black shirt. Rebuilt her together but she’s all hers.” If I was close enough, I could hear the pride in his voice.

I look up to meet Dean’s eyes, knowing already that Sam isn’t the one who put all the work in. He’s too gentle. Looking at Dean, I don’t need to say a word. He already knows how much I love the car and he’s answering my questions before I even ask them. “’67 Impala. As original as it gets nowadays, though I’ve rebuilt her at least half a dozen times now. My Baby,” he says proudly. I finish my appraisal with the biggest smile the brothers have seen on my face since they met me and Sam opens the back door for me. I put my backpack down on the seat but pause before I get in. “Kid?”

“Just…I can’t come back, here can I?” I ask, knowing what the answer is going to be before they say it. They meet each other’s eyes over the car before Sam turns to me. I put my hand up before he says anything. “No, I know. I…I got it. But Castiel, he’s going to make sure my mom and Anthony are safe, right? I can’t let anything happen to them, especially if I’m just going to take off like this.”

The brothers reassure me that an angel of the Lord is perfectly capable of following my seven-year-old brother around and keeping him in one piece before I finally get in the car. Sam shuts the door behind me before he gets in the passenger seat. Dean puts the car in reverse and just like that, I’m leaving the only house I’ve ever lived in. My shelter, my safe haven. My family, my home.

They’ll have to have the funeral without me, I think. I won’t get to say goodbye. I can feel the tears coming back even as I nod off, exhausted beyond belief.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Keith's perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little longer than I planned. I'm not 100% sure it makes sense but I hope it does and I hope it answers a couple questions...and gives you more.

_He drove away from his brother’s house filled with righteous fury. How dare those hunters and their companion try to ruin his plans? He has waited so long for them to be an option, to finally have his niece to himself, and the second he does, hunters finally take notice of the pack that’s been here for generations._

_He defines his life as before the bite and after the awakening. When his father and older brother first told him what they were and what he could become, he scoffed. He’d never believed in supernatural things nor had he ever been religious. Growing up on a farm, he believed in what he watched with his own eyes; he birthed cows, planted crops, cleaned tractors, but he loved it. But he also saw the harsh side. His closest friend in grade school wasn’t as careful as he should’ve been near a combine and got his arm caught. He had his arm amputated and two years later, took his own life. So Keith knew there was no higher power or anything out there that gave a shit. There was just too much pain and injustice in the natural world, let alone human society. Until his big brother, the one he’d looked up to all his life, transformed in front of his eyes._

_The first time he woke up after his father bit him, he felt as though he’d been reborn. Everything looked and sounded and smelled different. Things were brighter, sharper, more in focus. Sounds were louder and clearer. Smells would stretch on for miles and he found he could follow a barely-there scent for hours before losing it. He could listen to a beating heart from across a room and tell you what colour someone’s eyes were from inhuman distances._

_But the part he loved the most was the sheer_ power _he could feel coursing through his veins. He knew instantly he could dominate even the strongest of men with hardly any effort, could lift his truck if he wanted to. He could run a marathon without breaking a sweat or needing to breath more than usual. He could cut through steel with his nails and see clearly even on the darkest nights. There was nothing that could be taken from him. Nothing he could be denied._

_He was invincible._

_That was before they explained their ‘rules’ to him. The longer his father droned on, the angrier he got. Why would his father give this gift to him but immediately tell him he could never use it? What was the point? None of their rules made any sense to him and if he looks back, that was likely the first day he started planning his take-over. He knew that one day the pack would fall to him, being the second son of the current alpha. It was a lineage-style leadership, meaning that until Kevin died or unless he had a son, he would be the last of his immediate family to lead. Although he agreed to follow the rules, he immediately started planning._

_The first thing he knew he would do differently is the secrecy and the hiding. None of their family members knew what the men did at these meetings, nor what they were. If they turned and felt the need to feed, they were to go after animals rather than humans, even though they were less nutritious, grosser, harder to catch, and simply didn’t taste as good (he guessed, he hadn’t yet had the opportunity to test his theory). But they were discouraged from turning frequently because it could endanger their families and those around them if they were to lose control. Keith wanted to encourage frequent turning. To him, they were wasting their potential. They could be running this entire town, hell, this whole goddamn country if they just tried hard enough. And he thought he’d be the one to do it. Any humans who disagreed would make for excellent meals, any who wished to be turned would be, and any werewolf who dissented would be put down like the mutt he assumed they were._

_He knew there were other packs out there and lone wolves, and he planned to unite them. He wanted to find all those he could and bring them in from the dark and give them a family, a home. Why should they wander alone and scared when they had so much power at their fingertips?_

_The second thing he wanted to do was hunt down the hunters. When his father started talking about those who would come for them should they get out of hand, he was furious. These small humans, with their small minds and weak bodies, thought they had the right to judge them? To decide what was right and wrong? Being a werewolf was natural to him, found in nature; therefore, how could it be wrong to follow one’s instincts? In order for him to succeed in gaining any power at all, the hunters would have to go. Every single one. He had no doubt that once he started, they would give each other up in exchange for their own lives and he would follow the line until it ended._

_He also wanted to unite with all the other so-called monsters: vampires, shapeshifters, rugarus, and demons. He was on the fence about the angels. No one seemed to know much about them, but it sounded like the others all held the same level of respect for humanity he himself held. Hell, not all of them were a fatal danger to humans anyways. Shapeshifters could be in society as long as they controlled themselves. They were drifters anyways. Vampires could feed off of humans without killing them quite easily. It would likely take some training but that was easy enough. Rugarus, well, he wasn’t going near them with a ten-foot pole based on what he’s heard. Instead, they could go to prisons and hot spots of criminal activity and clean them out. Not like those humans were contributing anyways. Demons just wanted to cause chaos and possess people. Keith saw no problem with that as long as they couldn’t possess werewolves. A little chaos never killed anyone._

_His three-step plan was useless though until he was the alpha. He anticipated waiting for decades to lead, not four measly years. In the grand scheme of things, he thought, four years was nothing. But when his father died just a year after he was turned, he began to see an opportunity. He was close with his brother already, so he placed himself at the side of the alpha, to help make decisions and lead the pack. He was the son of the former alpha after all – it was his birthright. He whispered ideas to his brother, most of which were thrown out, but he managed to make small changes. For instance, they were now open to turning any boys in the family, not just first-born sons. He didn’t understand that policy anyways. Were first-born sons more powerful? What difference did it make?_

_The best gift he ever received, though, after his bite, was the thief who dared to harm his niece. His beautiful, innocent, kind niece. He’d loved her deeply from the moment she was born and some days, he felt like he should’ve been her father. He_ knew _he loved and cared for her more than her own parents and he had no other children that could take away from her like his brother. That was when she was young. Once or twice he even considered petitioning for custody of her when he felt her parents were too neglectful, but he never did any more than think about it. Which, looking back, was a blessing._

_When she hit her teenage years, she started to turn into a beautiful woman. He started to notice things about her. Her breasts came in earlier than those of her peers and made her innocence even more pronounced. Her lashes grew and flattered her hazel eyes in a way that wasn’t excessive, but perfect for her face. Her lips filled out, pink and plump. Her hips and her ass became a more prominent feature of her body, and he was grateful for that. She was perfectly proportioned, curvy, but petite. Her pale skin had a light spattering of freckles, but rarely any acne or flaws of any kind. And even when she did, he couldn’t care less. Acne was temporary. Her beauty was eternal. That was his plan, anyways. He could not live without her. When he was turned, he knew he would fight to overturn the male-only policy, if only so he would not have to watch her die. Things changed after that._

_He realized he was no longer the person he had been before the bite. He was remade. He wasn’t truly her uncle anymore; his DNA had changed with him and no longer matched hers. At first, this created a deep sadness in him, thinking that once he told her, he would lose her. He planned first to solve this by turning her, but as she grew and matured, he decided he didn’t just want to turn her. He wanted_ her _. This was perfectly normal, he convinced himself, because they were no longer related. She wasn’t really his biological niece anymore. He doubted any scientist could find any match should they study the two of them. But no one knew her the way he did, and vice versa; she was the best thing that had ever happened to him. And suddenly, the answer was in front of him._

_He would marry her. He was unsure if he would do it before or after he turned her, but he knew he would have her for his wife, his perfect mate, the mother of his children. Watching her, he could picture her full with child, with_ his _child, and it filled him with so much happiness and lust that he knew he would do anything to see it happen. She belonged with and to him in his mind, and there wasn’t any other option. She wouldn’t really go off to university, but even if she did, he would be there to watch over her. He scared off her boyfriends, so she wasn’t harmed. He followed her on field trips or outings with friends when he thought he wouldn’t be noticed. He was keeping her safe and she would appreciate it. One day, she would recognize all he had done for her and she would agree to be his. He would make it seem like it was a choice, to ease her mind. He loved her enough to let her think she was making her own decisions._

_The thief, however, harmed her in ways he couldn’t have protected her from. Even if he had been there that night, she still would’ve seen her friend stabbed. She still would’ve been threatened. Her friend still would’ve died the next day. She still would’ve needed weeks of intense therapy to keep her sanity. She still would’ve suffered. But he could fix it. She was terrified the thief would come back, he could see it in her, and she was scared he would kill her then, too. So, he found him. It was easy because his scent was all over the entrance of the store. He let the police try for a few days but when it became clear they weren’t giving it their all, he stepped in. It took him two days to hunt him down and he spent two days slowly torturing him to death. He took such pleasure from it that he imagined he must’ve done this in a former life. But maybe it was just because he knew he was saving her. She could never be harmed by him again. That was because of_ him _._

_He wasn’t there when she heard the news. His brother later confided in him that it broke her in ways he didn’t expect, and this was confusing for Keith. The thief was dangerous, could come back for her at any moment, she should be relieved, not broken. This was his fault. He broke her._

_It took a couple months, but soon, his brother suspected he was responsible for the horrific death of the thief. He observed Keith for the next few months and realized something was off. He wasn’t the same brother he raised. He needed to do something, needed to protect his pack and his family, but especially his daughter. His cousin Mark was asked to follow him at a distance and observe his activities. Mark watched Keith for two months before he picked up on a pattern. He reported back to the alpha and was sent back out with a new mission. The task this time was to keep him away from Melissa however he could, or simply keep an eye on him whenever he interacted with her._

_Mark dug deeper, though. He caught the scent of the thief from the nametag Melissa carried on her and followed it. It was incredibly faint but still there. From there, he found the shack. He could smell his cousin all over it before he even opened the door, and threw up immediately upon seeing all the blood and gore on the floor, the walls, even the ceiling._

_He pulled his phone out to call his alpha and inform him of this development, but there was no service. He got back into his truck and sped to town. The whole way he was trying to reach him. He was getting desperate. He didn’t know why, how, or when, but he knew Keith was without a doubt responsible for the death and it had something to do with Melissa. He couldn’t imagine it’d be anything good. What Mark didn’t know was there were hunters watching him. They’d heard about the death not long ago, being behind on the news a few months, and decided to come check it out to see if there was anything to it. They saw Mark follow his nose and sprint out of the shack. They followed him to town. Into the Wal-Mart where Mark stood to the side and watched his cousin do her job. Until finally, Mark snapped. He needed to do something. He’d watched his young cousin work for an hour and a half and saw the kindness and compassion radiating from her, the wholeness and pureness, even with all she’d been through, and wanted to protect her with his whole being._

_When he approached her, the brothers assumed she was a target. He was acting erratically and so they continued to follow him out of the store. They tried talking first, but the man was too panicked to explain himself properly. He all but confirmed he was a werewolf and that was enough for them after seeing him at the scene of the kill. Keith watched in the shadows, having known the moment Mark stepped foot into the shack thanks to a hidden security camera he installed to guard against police._ This is perfect _, he thought._ I can convince everyone Mark lost his mind and killed the thief and we can all move on. They’ll know I’m keeping her safe. I figured it out. I can even tell them I _…The door to the store opened and Melissa walked out._

_That plan would have worked if she hadn’t chosen that moment to come outside. He could have spun any story he needed to endear her to him again, having lost her a little after the incident. And not much later her father arrived, and all was lost, or so he thought. When he watched his brother throw himself at the hunters, presumably to protect his daughter, all he could think about was getting that hunter’s hands off_ his _girl and hope, in the deepest, darkest part of his soul that the hunters killed his brother. If it wasn’t for his niece, he would have had to wait so much longer to take his rightful place. He knew the hunters wouldn’t hurt her since she’s human and they wouldn’t harm him as long as she was in the way. He had to think fast._

_She’d never do anything to risk her mother and brother, especially not after watching her father die. He could use that. As he whispered a threat in her ear, his body was singing at the closeness he’d been craving. He had to get out of there if he didn’t want to scare her too much right away._

Everything should have come together today _, he thinks bitterly, stopped on the side of the highway._ She’s mine, she was even going to come with me _._

I can fix this _, he thinks. It’s not over yet. He pulls his phone out and dials someone he knows he can trust. It’s time for plan…c? Maybe it’s plan h by now, he doesn’t really care. What matters is the end result – his niece, no longer his niece but his wife, bearing his children, loving him wholly and devoting herself to him forever. He has no doubt that if he pushes the right buttons, she’ll fall right into place. And if not…well, he’s not above using harsher methods._

_Like he said, what matters is the end result._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it took a little longer than normal to get this chapter out, but I did warn y'all there wouldn't really be a schedule. I've been dealing with the police in my hometown which has been difficult with the distance and had to get a temporary job because being a teacher may not be an option this year. It's been a pretty crazy week!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a job! I desperately needed something to one keep me busy and two pay my bills (moving is EXPENSIVE). so this is going to become even more irregular but I hope y'all are still enjoying it. Lemme know, please, I lOVE the comments. I haven't 100% figured out how to acknowledge them but I really really appreciate the kindness.

Before now, I’d never been on a road trip. Hell, I’d never been on a trip. My parents weren’t exactly well-off and even though my therapy last year was mostly free, there were other costs. Plus, there’s my seven-year-old brother who seems to excel at literally everything he does – sports, music, art, dance, whatever. He’s good at it all. And no one wants to deny sweet little Anthony anything, especially since he doesn’t even see the monetary side of things. All he knows is he has fun and he’s busy and he has a lot of friends. And his sister is his biggest fan.

Now, however, I’m in the back of the most beautiful classic car I’ve ever seen, driving through what must be the flattest part of the States since I woke up, and I’m not entirely sure I’m not dreaming. I should probably be going into shock at _some point_ in the next few hours considering everything that’s happened in the past forty-eight hours, but…so far, I’m okay, I guess. Obviously scared of what’s going to happen to me now and of Keith, and worried for my mom and Anthony, but I trust Dean and Sam and they trust the angel, Castiel I think, to keep them safe.

Dean takes a turn onto an almost invisible road while I’m lost in my head and slows down. From what I can see, there’s literally nothing anywhere near here. “Uh, guys? This isn’t the spot you’re using to murder me and dump my body, right?” Well, I thought I trusted them.

They both snort and Sam turns to look at me. “Did we not tell you about the bunker?” I frown, scrunching my forehead, as I think back, then shake my head. I don’t remember anything about a bunker. “That’s where we’re going. It’s safe from almost everything and we live there. We’re legacies of this group called the Men of Letters and they built it. No one knows where it is.” As he says this last part, he meets my eyes and tries to convey his sincerity. I nod.

“Okay,” I say and yawn again. “’S there a bed or somethin’? I’m still really tired.”

“Yeah, kiddo, there’s lots of beds. We’ll get you set up once we pull into the garage, kay?” Dean says over his shoulder.

I still feel like none of this is real, but even my subconscious couldn’t come up with anything this insane.

The car parks in what appears to be a replica of the Batcave, complete with fancy cars and hidden openings. We start to unload the boys’ duffle bags, and my backpack and suitcase and then Sam leads me inside. Dean stays back for some reason, but I’m too tired to ask why. Sam drops his duffel in what looks like an unused room, from what I can tell by peeking in all the other doors, Dean’s in one with lots of weapons on the walls (what the _fuck_ , who just puts a gun on the wall to look at?), and then leads me to one not far from Dean’s. “This’ll be your room, for however long you’re here. You have a private bathroom, so you don’t have to worry about showering and what not, and we’re just down the hall if you need anything. Your cell phone still works here but no one can track it so you can turn it back on if you want. Kitchens down the hall, library is around the corner from there…you know what, we’ll just give you a tour when you wake up. Get some rest,” Sam says, smiling at me gently. I heave a sigh before nodding and moving into my room. I say a quiet goodnight to him (goodnight, good morning, whatever. I have no idea what day or time or month it is at this point) and close my door. I drop my backpack on the floor, leave the suitcase standing by the door, and faceplant on the bed. I’m asleep in under a minute.

While I slept, I dreamed of my dad. The dreams were incredibly vivid, bringing me back to my younger years. Like when I was three and he took me to work with him. He was a mechanic and had already taught me the names of a lot of tools, so he would shout at me across the shop for various things and I would dutifully run them over to him. The other guys there were amazed and soon it became a game. Everyone would tell me what they needed, and I tried to get everything and remember who wanted what. Every once in a while, over the next few years, my dad would bring me back with him, knowing more tools. Whenever someone new was hired, part of their orientation was learning about the regular games they all played with me. By the time my dad was the owner of the shop, I was there at least once a week. It became a home for me. And when he renamed his shop a year after buying it, he named it for me: _Mellie’s Cars & Toys_. The guys around the shop all called me Mellie; it was a shop-only nickname and I made sure no one else was allowed to use it. It made it more special to me.

The dream shifts to show my mom near the end of her pregnancy when she carried Anthony. I’m almost eleven and I’ve been reading up on babies as much as I can because Dad has been so busy with the shop and Mom has been really, really sick lately. So, I have to be ready to take care of this baby like he was my own. The day Mom had the baby, we were alone at home and all of a sudden, there was this puddle of water that wasn’t pee under where she was sitting. I panicked and jumped up, knowing this was probably the baby. “Mama, what do I do? Do I call Daddy? Or – wait, no, I should call 911, right, Mama?” She was nodding along to what I was saying, as though she had no idea I was asking her a question. She tried to stand up and stumbled, falling to the floor on her side. When I looked at the couch, there wasn’t just water or pee. There was blood. It was all over the couch and all over my mom’s pants. That was when her eyes shut and didn’t reopen for a long time.

A new scene unfolds as my mom’s eyes close. It’s my first look at my baby brother, nameless as of right now, because my mom is still in surgery and my dad isn’t here yet. The nurses are helping me hold him because we’re both all alone and I’m scared, and I kept asking the nurse at the really big desk if he was here yet. The nurse who helps me is named Jenny and she has really short hair, but really big, brown eyes, and she talks to me like she’s my friend, not an adult. She shows me how to put my elbow under the baby’s neck and lean my arm on the arm rest, so it doesn’t get too tired. I hold him to me as tight as I can and introduce myself. I’m the first person he gets to meet so I have to do it right, make sure he knows that I’m his big sister and I love him. Jenny sits back on her heels and watches us, watches the baby’s eyes peek open at me. I giggle at him as his tiny fist clenches around my pinky finger and let him hold on as tightly as he can. For a little while, I forget to be worried about my mom.

I’m thirteen now and something is wrong with Anthony. Mama had to take him to the hospital last night and Daddy was going after he took me to school in the morning. He promised me Uncle Keith would pick me up after school and I could call him whenever I needed to. The day itched by achingly slow but finally I could leave and find Uncle Keith. He was leaning against his truck in the parking lot out front, scrolling through his cell phone. When he heard the doors open, he looked up at me and grinned. “Hey Liss, ya ready? Got a long night ahead of us,” he said and gave me a side hug. He helped me hop up into the truck before going around to his side and starting it up. As we drove back to his house, he gave me a list of things we had to do: feed the cows, check on the calves, fill up the water trough, feed the horses and give them water, check on the pregnant barn cat, drive by all the fields to see how they were coming along, and, last but not least, make our special dinner. He added the last one on to make me smile. I wasn’t stupid; even at thirteen I knew he was keeping me so busy all night to distract me from my brother. But I wasn’t mad. If anything, I was grateful. I had no idea what was happening and my parents sure didn’t want to tell me anything, so this was the next best thing. Uncle Keith and I had a lot of fun just talking and joking around that night and even managed to get everything done. While I was barbecuing the hot dogs and he was making the mac n’ cheese, we agreed that we’d always remember tonight. I would always be his girl and he’d always be my favourite uncle. We had our first beers together that night.

The last scene is a little distorted, which is odd after the others were so clear. I’m in the living room of my grandparents’ house playing with a three-year-old Anthony, having come here with my dad. He’s in the kitchen with my grandpa and Uncle Keith and I can hear them arguing, but quietly. Uncle Keith just turned thirty a week or two ago and we had a really big party for him. Everyone was really happy but now it seems like they aren’t getting along at all. I can hear the anger in my dad’s voice as he whispers to the other men in the room, trying to keep Anthony and I out of it. In my dream, though, I can hear them a little more clearly. “Is this really the right time, Keith? You just got turned, I don’t think it’s time to be getting involved in council. You need to get a better handle on yourself,” Daddy said. Keith scoffed. “I’m fine. Dad, you would know. You turned us both. I’m fine right? You wouldn’t let me be here with the kids if I wasn’t,” he shot back. Daddy paused. “I guess. I just don’t think it’s time to upset the status quo too much. There was already a fight over whether you should be turned or not. Technically, it looks like we’re stacking the deck. This has _never_ happened before.” I could hear my grandpa shushing them both. “Just because it’s never happened doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing. Yes, there was a fight, but we won by being logical and level-headed. The reason this is so unprecedented is because divorcing and remarrying never used to be legal, let alone common enough practice that someone in our family would do it. That’s the only reason. We rewrote the rulebook this time around but Keith, I don’t want you causing waves just yet. Give it some time,” Grandpa said. I don’t remember doing this, but I peeked around the corner of the kitchen to see Daddy and Grandpa leaning against the counters, looking tired, and Uncle Keith standing rigid, glaring furiously at them, before turning and leaving the house without saying another word.

I wake up with a start. Rubbing my eyes, I slowly sit up and look around. My phone is laying on the side table next to me, face down but plugged in. There’s also a glass of water sitting there with a note from Sam: _When you wake up, send me a text. Dean and I are going to get some food. Let me know what you want_ , his phone number written out at the bottom. I take a few sips from the glass to ease my dry throat and then pick up my phone. It’s still turned off, so I turn it back on and wait for the main screen to pop up. Finally, it comes on, telling me it’s 10:07 AM and it’s Monday.

“I slept for a whole day?” I whisper incredulously to myself. “Holy shit.” I scroll to my text messages and open a new one to Sam’s number. I ask him to bring me back a flavoured coffee and something with sugar in it to eat. I feel like I haven’t eaten in days and I need a pick-me-up. After I send the message, my phone catches up to itself and the rest of my messages start to pile up. 

Mama: _Hey, sweetie, Anthony and I are on our way home now. Can you take a frozen pizza out of the freezer to defrost?_

Mama: _Sweetie, we just got home, where are you? Are you with your father?_

Mama: _The police were just here. Where are you?_

Mama: _Melissa, please answer me. You’re scaring me. Are you okay?_

Mama: _Well, kiddo, this is what we call consequence._ [picture image].

The picture attached to Mama’s last message loads slowly and as soon as I see it, I have to bolt to the attached bathroom to vomit. My phone slips out of my hand as I do. After I empty my stomach and dry heave for a minute or two, my shaking hand picks my phone up again.

I choke out a sob. At that moment I can hear Sam and Dean coming down the hallway, laughing at something someone said. They knock at my door. “Kid, you awake?” Dean asks. I sob again and the door swings open, both men pulling their weapons to check the room. I look up at them with tears rolling down my face.

“Melissa? What’s wrong?” Sam asks, lowering his gun. I shake my head and stay where I’m kneeling on the ground, but hold my phone up for him to look at. He takes it from my hand and he and Dean look at it at the same time. I look down at the floor, wrapping my arms around myself in grief. “Holy shit,” Sam whispers. He looks at Dean, horrified. Immediately, Dean spins around and stalks out of the room, yelling for the angel.

Sam crouches down next to me and puts an arm around me. He pulls me in to lean on him and I lose control. I cry until I have nothing left. It could be hours or minutes later when I come back to myself. My phone is still in Sam’s hand, still open to the photo.

Mama’s body is covered in blood and you can see her rib cage from where her heart was ripped out. Her eyes are open and unseeing, and her right arm is around little Anthony’s body. He, too, is missing his heart but his face is contorted into a silent scream. If the amount of blood says anything, it says they suffered before they died. It says Keith wasn’t kidding around, and, angel or no angel, my whole family has died within a handful of days.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the new chapter!! Sorry it took a little while, I got a new job and then my computer crashed and I lost a few pages of this chapter and had to completely rewrite it. I think I'm happier with this version but it was still a bit tough to get going again.   
> Anyways, enjoy!

It’s the flutter of wings that finally makes me look up at the three men in my room. Curled up on Sam’s lap, I’ve been ignoring the conversation he and Dean have been having, choosing to focus on my mom and Anthony. I know what happened, I know they’re gone, but the photo almost seems fake in its horror. I can’t understand how Keith…How the monster I used to call my uncle could have done that.

“What now?” I whisper. All three men startle at my words and turn to look at me, questions in their eyes. “There has to be a plan, right? You were all about killing him before, you’re still going to, right? He – he killed two people. He _murdered_ my mom, my baby brother,” my voice breaks. “He _brutally murdered_ his sister-in-law and _seven-year-old nephew_ in cold- _fucking_ -blood. You – he called you hunters or something. You have to do something. Please.”

Dean shifts slightly, gripping his right forearm. “Yeah, kid, we’ll do something alright.”

Castiel steps forward and opens his mouth as though to speak, but before he can say a word, I scramble off Sam’s lap and retreat into the corner. His face twists into a look of shock and hurt, but my eyes are blurring with tears again. _It’s his fault_ , my mind whispers. _He said he would watch over them and keep them safe and now they’re gone._

Sam and Dean meet each other’s eyes, before Dean sighs heavily. “C’mon, Cas, let’s head out. We got a lot of ground to cover.” Castiel looks at me for another moment or two before he too sighs and turns to follow Dean out of the room. I listen to them walk down the hallway before relaxing and looking to Sam.

He tilts his head to the hall. “You hungry? I was going to make myself some lunch,” he offers. I nod, knowing it’s been a long time since I last ate. I don’t know how long I slept, but I do know I didn’t eat as much as I probably should have before the road trip and definitely didn’t eat much throughout. I shuffle behind Sam as he navigates the maze that is the Batcave’s little brother and he finally enters the biggest kitchen I’ve ever seen in my life. It looks like those industrial ones they would show in the cooking shows my mom loves – loved – once upon a time. He gestures to a picnic table off to the side. “Take a seat, I’ll whip something up. Any allergies?” I shake my head. “Cool. I was going to make some sandwiches, but I can make something a little heavier if you want.”

“No, that’s okay,” I say quietly. “Not sure I’ll be able to keep it down anyways.” He smiles sadly at that and turns to start cooking. My phone is still in his hand and he places it face down on the counter. That’s fine with me, I don’t want it back. Now that my parents and Anthony are all dead, I don’t have anyone to get in contact with anyways. He may as well keep my phone for evidence or whatever. I don’t really know how this hunting thing works.

When he finishes with the sandwiches, he slides a plate in front of me and tells me to grab whatever I like. There are a couple different kinds of meat as well as a plain peanut butter and jelly sandwich, with cut up vegetables on the side. He opens the fridge and pulls out a bottle of water and a beer and follows me back to the table. It’s quiet in the room while we eat, which I’m grateful for. I’m not much for small talk at the best of times, let alone in times of grief.

I help him wash the dishes and put leftovers away when we both finish, and he leads me to what he calls the library. It’s quite possibly the most incredible library I’ve ever been in, with beautiful columns, relics on shelves all around the room, and deep brown oak tables along the middle of the room. I stop at the second last stair to take it all in in awe and when Sam notices, he turns with a smile. “Amazing, isn’t it? This is the Men of Letters library, the biggest collection of supernatural lore and knowledge in the world,” he boasts proudly. I nod my head and slowly move into the room to run my fingers over the book spines on the closest shelf. They’re intricately done, clearly very old, but well taken care of.

Sam goes off to find whatever it is we came in here for while I continue to appreciate the collection and comes back with a box labelled _Werewolf Packs_. He opens it and I can see large folders stuffed full of information. I inch closer to see names and places written on the labels. He thumbs through them all before finally pulling one out from the end labelled _Wallace Pack, Canada_. I inhale sharply. They knew about the pack and did nothing? I look up at Sam with anger and alarm in my eyes.

“You _knew_? You knew they were there and what, decided they weren’t worth your time? What the _fuck_ , Sam? They’re murderers!” I shout. He looks up at me, surprised at my outburst.

“Melissa, these aren’t our files. They’re from the Men of Letters. We just got here a year or so ago, but the Men of Letters were here back in the fifties before they got wiped out. This is all pretty outdated,” he explains. I flush, embarrassed, and move to look over his shoulder at what the file says when he sits down.

The first page of the file has old photos of the pack. I can vaguely recognize a people in a couple of the photos, one of them being my great-grandfather. He’s holding hands with a young child, most likely my grandfather. I can see the old farmhouse in the background. The next photo is one of my great-grandfather and a group of other men I don’t recognize. The most recent photo shows two men, one of whom looks a lot like my uncle, which means he’s my great-grandfather’s cousin. It used to be a joke that Keith was just a reincarnation of Jed Wallace, the cousin. I can see how true that is now, because if it wasn’t for the date in the corner, I would’ve thought it was Keith.

“Sam, what is this?” I ask. “How could they have all this information and not do anything with it?”

He hums, frowning. “I’m not sure, let’s see…” he continues to thumb through the file until he gets to the end. The last page is a report on the pack, and Sam reads it out loud.

“ _June 18, 1955. Just returned from a meeting with the Wallace pack alpha in Canada. Jed was quite forthcoming with information to convince us they were not a threat. He divulged the following information:_

_The Wallace pack does not feed on people whatsoever. Several of their oldest pack members have their own farms and breed cattle or raise chickens to provide themselves with what they refer to as a vegetarian diet. As a pureblood pack, they do not have the compulsion to shift at the full moon, but rather whenever they feel the need. They have a significant amount of control over themselves when changed in comparison to many other packs._

_The Wallace pack does not believe in biting indiscriminately, but rather have very strict rules about who may and may not be brought into the pack. Similar to the Men of Letters, they are a male-only group. There is no history of women being a part of the pack outside of their human wives. The only members of the pack are first-born sons of pack members. They are changed on or after their thirtieth birthday, not a moment sooner, to give them an opportunity to have a family and children without the curse._

_It is forbidden within the pack to have children after being turned. The men are informed of the existence of the pack around their twenty-ninth birthday such that they may have time to make an informed decision about joining. Should they decide they do not wish to be bitten, that decision is respected, and the offer goes to the next son, if applicable. The pack is in discussions to change the offer to the thirty-fifth birthday rather than thirtieth as society encourages having children later in life, but it is unlikely to change anytime soon._

_It is likewise forbidden for just any pack member to turn a new member. It must either be the alpha or the closest relative who turns the young men. Even if their father is not a werewolf, the eldest sons are all offered the opportunity to keep the pack alive. Regardless, it remains very small due to circumstance. It began in the mid-1800s when the first Wallace to arrive in Canada was bitten. As such, the man must be a Wallace by name and by birth (that is, no adopted or stepchildren may be bitten) and none of the pack members are immortal like expected. They age much like humans too and their life progression is almost identical. The main difference is that they are less likely to meet an untimely, accidental death given their near indestructibleness._

_While they warrant follow up every few years, we feel confident concluding that the Wallace pack does not pose a threat to their surrounding human population, nor to their family members due to the extreme secrecy they swear members to upon their change. Even wives and children are not permitted to know._ ”

When Sam finishes talking, we both sit in silence for a few moments. I move around the table to sit and face him. His face mirrors the shock I feel, knowing how Keith and my father came to be werewolves and why I had no idea. I realize that based on these rules, Anthony would have been offered the same chance twenty-two years from now and could not have asked me my opinion if the rules had not changed. I wonder who the alpha was before this weekend. I wonder if Keith is somehow in charge and shiver outwardly at the thought. Sam catches my eye when he notices.

“I was just wondering who the alpha is right now,” I say. “Who is it that lets Keith do whatever he wants. Maybe, since it says they don’t feed on humans at all, whoever the alpha is will punish Keith.” It’s a long shot, I know this before I say it, but I want to think positively. I want to think that someone in my extended family will stand up for my immediate family. For the people who should have been the safest from the pack. But Sam is already shaking his head.

“Dean and I have a theory that Keith is the alpha right now. Well, no, actually we think your dad was the alpha until…” he trails off here. I grimace, knowing what he was going to say, and gesture for him to go on. “I don’t think there’s going to be anyone holding your uncle accountable, Melissa, I’m really sorry.”

I sigh, closing my eyes and resting my head in my hands. “Yeah, I figured I wouldn’t get that lucky.” I think about the last few days for a moment. “Wait, that file says they don’t kill humans, right?” Sam nods. “Then, why were you guys there? How did you know?”

Sam makes a face and gets up to bring his laptop over. He sits down next to me and pulls up an article from our local newspaper. _Local man found shredded by wolf, police say_. It goes on to describe when the police found Turner’s body, bloody and missing his heart, as well as a few other vital organs. I remember reading the first part of the article before ripping it to pieces and burning it. Then I threw up, remembering him when he was alive, killing my co-worker.

Lost in my thoughts, I almost miss Sam’s explanation. “When this article first came up, we were, uh, busy with some other things. But a friend of ours, he was turned into a werewolf a year or two back and so he keeps track of things like this. He’s got a bit of a sharper eye for it now and he makes sure to send anything like it our way so we can check into it. Anyways, I hadn’t really paid much attention to his emails until recently and we started working our way through them. This was the latest one we’d gotten to, so we came up to investigate and see if it was our kind of thing. Dean was able to find out from the police where the body was found and from there, we found a shack that was very clearly used to kill him. It looked a little more like torture than a typical werewolf kill, but we thought it might be worth staking out anyways. I guess maybe your cousin,” he pauses.

“Mark,” I supply quietly.

“Right, Mark. Well, I think Mark was also trying to figure it out and we saw him come to the shack to check it out. Almost as soon as he entered the place, he was coming back out to throw up in the bushes. But that was our clue, so we followed him back into town. He came straight to you and spent a long time on his phone. I checked it later, and he was really trying to get in touch with your dad. He’d figured out it was Keith, but, uh, at the time, it looked like it was him, to Dean anyways.”

I tilt my head and squint at him. “Really? Cause it sounds like it wasn’t, especially if he had to throw up when he saw whatever was in the shack.” Sam shifts uncomfortably, bringing his hand up to rub the back of his neck.

“Yeah, well, Dean has been, he’s been a little trigger-happy lately, you could say. He saw werewolf, a dead body, and a young girl being stalked, or so we thought. To him, that was it. And when he seemed to get aggressive with you, Dean’s mind was made up.

“We followed him out to the parking lot and accused him. He tried to deny it, but it was too late. He’d admitted he was a werewolf and signed his own death sentence with that. It was later that we put the pieces together that told us your uncle did it, not your cousin. But then you came out and saw us, and you know what happened from there. We’re just figuring it all out now,” he admits. 

“Oh,” I whisper. “So, would you have left? If I hadn’t come outside and seen you?”

Sam shrugs. “Maybe, I’m not sure. Honestly, it seemed pretty open and shut. Definitely didn’t see the pack coming, or the weird uncle part. For what it’s worth, I’m really sorry. I wish it had gone differently.”

I thought about everything he told me. It sounded like an honest mistake, and when you do what they do, I guess you can’t waste too much time or give the benefit of the doubt very often. Monsters don’t really care about that kind of thing, I can’t imagine. If they’re anything like Keith, they sure as hell don’t. “It’s okay,” I say and look up at Sam with a little smile. “I wouldn’t have guessed any of this either. I mean, I had no idea any of this shit was happening. I guess maybe I should’ve paid more attention to Turner’s death, it _was_ weird timing, but I was pretty messed up at the time and I was just so happy it was over…”

“Hey,” Sam says and puts his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t think like that. It’s not your fault you didn’t automatically think werewolf. I’d be a little concerned if you did.” I huff a laugh.

“Yeah, guess that would be a little strange,” I say. “But I don’t know, it’s not your fault. You were just trying to help, Dean too.”

“So was Castiel,” Sam prods. “I know it doesn’t make a difference now, but I know it’s destroying him right now knowing he failed to protect them. We do our best, but it’s not always enough.”

“Yeah,” I say. But not enough got my baby brother killed, and that’s too much.


	10. Chapter 10

Sam spends the next day giving me the tour of the Batcave (which he says is actually called the Men of Letters bunker, but that’s not as fun) and figuring out what I know that could be useful. Given that I’m eighteen and found out about the supernatural literally less than a week ago, he’s quickly discovered that I don’t have much to offer. I was a cross-country runner, though, which meant I was able to go on runs with him in the mornings and he thought that would be a good start to training me. He and Dean had both agreed that at the very least, I needed to learn how to defend myself in a fight if it ever came to that. They also wanted me to learn how to use various weapons to defend myself, but I was much more hesitant about that.

Fortunately, Dean and Castiel didn’t come back for a few days so I had time to calm down and process my grief as best I could before I saw the angel again. I knew it was irrational to blame him because seeing Keith as I did now, I know he’s a lot smarter and a lot more cunning than I had ever imagined he could be, but it was hard to see past the blood and gore he’d created in the angel’s absence.

I understood a lot more now though. Even though everything Sam and I found yesterday seemed to be at odds with everything Keith had been doing, it made more sense to me than if he’d followed the rules perfectly. Clearly, something wasn’t quite right with him and he was losing his mind, if he hadn’t lost it years ago already. I still don’t completely understand what exactly his deal is with me, but it’s clearly something he never could have had while my dad was alive. That much I do know.

In the evenings, Sam lets me curl up in their den with a book or to watch whatever I can find on TV. I’ve never been one for television, but I’ve been finding my mom’s reality cooking shows quite comforting lately. I can almost imagine she’s sitting on the couch next to me, taking mental notes on recipes the way she has since I was a kid. She liked to challenge herself, despite not often having time to cook anything intricate.

I’m in the middle of the second _Harry Potter_ book when Castiel arrives in the door. I hear the soft flutter of his wings and look up to see him standing awkwardly with a serious look on his face. “Hello Melissa,” he says. “I hear you are settling in well. I was hoping to talk to you about your uncle if that’s alright.”

I close the book and place it on the coffee table before turning on the couch to face him fully. He nods and sits next to me, on the farthest side of the couch. “Do you know how long he’s been a werewolf?”

“Wow, not starting light, are ya,” I joke. He frowns and tilts his head slightly. “It was a joke. I don’t really know. I think, paying attention to what Sam and I found yesterday, I think it would’ve been around three years ago maybe. Around the time he turned thirty, so I was fifteen-ish. Why?”

“Dean and I were trying to understand where he got some of the ideas he has. It seems as though he wants to bring together various packs and lone wolves, as well as initiate some kind of truce with various other supernatural creatures. We just can’t put our fingers on the why. And then there’s you,” he says. I grimace.

“I got nothing on that, sorry. He wasn’t very forthcoming with his plans or whatever. Just said that I belonged to him or something like that.” I shuddered as I remembered the look on his face when he said that the first time. The pure predator in him and the prey he made me into. I didn’t know for sure what he wanted from me, but I knew it wasn’t good, and definitely had a few horrifying theories. None of them things you wanted to think about when it came to your formerly loving, kind, attentive uncle. Although, that picture was long gone, replaced with visions of blood and missing body parts and broken seven-year-old bodies.

Dean arrives in the doorway as I continue to ponder this and fall deeper into the rabbit hole that is my memory. I can feel a panic attack coming on, so I glance around, trying to find something to ground myself. The shock of seeing the older brother in the doorway was enough to do it, it seems, and I’m now concentrating on when he got there.

“Hey, kiddo, how ya holding up?” he asks, coming further into the room and leaning against the table behind the couch. I shrug. “Dunno if Cas told you, but we learned some things while we were back up there. First being that your little thief? Your uncle was the one that killed him, not your cousin. We fucked up there,” he admits grudgingly.

Closing my eyes, I breathe in and out deeply, trying not to overreact to the news. I had figured it was something like that, because no way in hell did Mark do that. I’m not even sure he knew the whole story considering we weren’t that close with him or the rest of his family. “What else,” I ask.

“Your uncle’s gone. Vanished, completely MIA. And you’re officially a missing person. Your dad’s body was found the other day and the police went to inform your mother and found her and your brother at the same time. But of course, no one has seen you since the hospital, other than me and Sam, so they’re assuming something happened to you. Namely, us. So congrats, in Canada, you managed to get a warrant out on us for the very first time.” He gives me a self-deprecating smile, trying to make light of the situation but I am at a loss again.

“Wait, do they think that you guys kidnapped me? And murdered my whole fucking family? Cause that makes no sense when you think about the whole hospital trip that y’all facilitated for me,” I say. This just keeps getting more and more complicated and I’m not sure how much more I can take. Normal people would have had the time to properly grieve the horrific deaths their entire immediate family had just suffered, but unfortunately, thanks to my dad’s psychotic half-brother, I don’t get to be normal anymore. Now, I’m somehow part of some werewolf cult, an orphan, a supposed kidnapping victim, and I’m not even in my own goddamn country.

For the first time in a few days that I can consciously remember, Marie’s nametag has found its way to my hand. I rub my fingers along it and look up to Dean’s questioning glance. “Sam didn’t tell you?” I ask, frowning. He shakes his head, glancing down to see what it is I’m playing with. “That thief Keith killed? He was in Wal-Mart one night stealing things and got caught by our greeter, Marie. She approached him and asked to see his receipt. I happened to be right behind her when she did and saw him pull the knife on her. As I yelled to her, he stabbed her. I caught her when she fell and tried to keep her from bleeding out, while also trying to refrain from getting stabbed myself. Thief’s name was Turner and it was barely a couple weeks later that the police found his completely shredded body. I was pretty messed up from all of it and so I just hold onto Marie’s nametag and it comforts me, I guess. My therapist used to say it grounded me? Still not too sure what that meant.”

Dean grimaces. “Shit, I’m sorry, kid.” Not for the first time, I notice that he’s holding onto his right forearm pretty tightly. He notices me looking and quickly lets go like he’s been burned. “So, the plan now, I guess, is you lay low here for a little while until Keith resurfaces. We think he might try to track you down, which will bring him down to Kansas, but he won’t be able to get within a certain distance of the bunker so then we can head out and gank him. Problem is, we don’t know how long it’ll take him to do that.”

“So, what you’re saying is I’m stuck here indefinitely.”

Castiel is the one who answers me. “If there’s anything you need, just let me know and I can get it for you. We already put some other hunters on watch for him and I’ve been in contact with a few angels I still trust to also watch out. They’re also keeping a special eye on your mom and brother to make sure they’re doing alright.”

“Oh,” I say quietly. “What about my dad?”

Castiel and Dean exchange glances before Castiel finally tilts his head back to face me. “Your dad was a werewolf and so didn’t have a soul like humans do. Instead, he would’ve gone to a place called purgatory.”

Dean shivers and makes a face at that. I look at him with wide eyes, knowing already that isn’t a good place to go. “He’ll be okay? Or…I know that can’t be a good place to be.”

Dean shakes his head. He opens his mouth as if to say something then closes it again, hand moving to his forearm again. He pauses for a moment, making eye contact with me, before he seems to give up on his train of thought and just leaves the room. A minute later, I hear a door slam shut and I assume it’s his bedroom door. Castiel sighs. “We’re all very sorry about this, Melissa, I know the Winchesters would have done things very differently had they known the way it would go. But even as an angel, I’d never heard of something like this. The packs are pretty common, but the very aggressive members are usually found out much before anything truly horrible happens because it’s pretty obvious. Sam and Dean have other cases to work but I’m going to continue my search for your uncle when I can so you can return home when or if you so choose.”

“Thank you,” I whisper. “I think, uh, I’m going to go lay down now, if you don’t mind. This was kind of a lot for today.” The angel nods and gestures for me to stand and leave ahead of him. He follows me down the hall and pauses behind me when I enter the room the boys designated for me.

“If there’s anything that you need, just pray to me. Or ask one of the Winchesters for my cell phone number and you can call me whenever. I don’t sleep or eat so don’t worry about disturbing me. If you need something, call for me.” I nodded with a small smile and he then proceeded to continue down the hallway to the library where I’m assuming Sam still is. Sure enough, a moment later, I can hear a low conversation in the library.

I close the door to my bedroom and flop down on my bed, staring up at the ceiling blankly. The more we all learn about Keith and who he has become, the more physically ill I become. This is not the man I grew up with, the man I loved the most out of everyone outside my immediate family. Having him screw my entire life up so completely in just a handful of days is something I never saw coming either. His body count also continues to rise. Three seems like such a small number when you think of literally anything else that you could count, but when it comes to human lives and bodies, three is incredibly, terrifyingly high.

Blinking up at the ceiling a few times trying to fight off tears and maybe convince my body I need a nap, I realize that my life will never be the same again nor will I ever feel really, truly safe. Even deep in this concrete, heavily guarded bunker with two well-trained hunters and an angel, I feel exposed, as though something, or someone, could just stroll on in and do whatever they wanted to me. And that thought terrifies me the most because I’m still learning about myself let alone anyone else and what their expectations will be for me.

I have never wanted to go home more than I do right this second.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting to move a little more. I was a little unsure of where I was in canon so made that decision last night when I couldn't sleep. Please excuse the summary and dialogue as I continue to get further along. Again - first fan fiction, not 100% sure what I'm doing.
> 
> Also, side note, looking for someone to read over a chapter that is NOT fan fiction but is going to be entered into a contest to receive a publishing deal and win some incredibly desperately needed money (not 100% sure how I'm going to pay my bills this month even working extra hours at my new job and my partner taking on one, maybe two jobs). would very much appreciate it!!!

It took some time, but my face finally disappeared from the newspapers and milk cartons after a couple of months. Sam had been watching the Canadian news to see if there were any updates on my case, whether that be related to my disappearance, to my uncle, or to the deaths of my family members because all three cases seemed to be baffling the media and the authorities. I spent the vast majority of the last few months in the bunker or running errands in Lebanon, the closest town, because my face had even permeated American news stations when the authorities back home ran out of leads and started to speculate that maybe I’d left or been taken out of the country. That was probably the closest they would ever get to the truth.

No one had had any lucky finding Keith though, not the authorities in Canada or the US, nor the hunters assigned to him nor the few friendly werewolves and other monsters the Winchesters knew. Castiel hadn’t had any luck with the angels either, but he had managed to find my mom and brother and merge their heavens so even though they weren’t exactly aware of what was going on around them, they could be together. While reassuring, his news had been enough to set me off for several days again as I thought about their souls being in Heaven rather than on earth like they belonged.

The Winchesters’ lives seemed to get even crazier than mine though. The reason Dean kept rubbing his arm all those months ago was finally revealed to me one night after he’d been out to a bar. He came home looking as though he’d been in a fight, and I had been the only one home at the time, so had helped clean him up. While I did that, his drunk ass spilled the secret and even showed me what we were dealing with.

The Mark of Cain.

Their lives continued to get more dangerous after that night, revealing a family that was almost too psychotic to really, actually exist, and Dean continued to go further off the deep end. The night they lost their friend Charlie seemed to be his breaking point. She was one of the kindest, happiest, brightest people I had ever met, and I was only lucky enough to meet her a couple of times. Her red hair was symbolic of her personality, a spirited genius with a heart of pure gold.

The first night we met, she asked me how I came to know the Winchesters and why I was living with them as well. The genuine care in her eyes broke me down and it wasn’t long before I found myself crying on her shoulder, spilling all my trauma. When I was done, she used her finger to pull my face up to look at her.

“Kiddo, you’re going to be okay, I promise. I have been in your shoes before. I lost my parents when I was twelve because of a drunk asshole who couldn’t face his mistakes and I was lost for a long, _long_ time, but Sam and Dean found me and they changed my life. I learned about monsters and taught myself how to fight them and track them. I went to Oz and fought a war with Dorothy Baum herself. I _kick ass_ and most of that is thanks to them. I promise, Mark of Cain or no, you’re in the best hands you could possibly be in. And absolutely none of this is your fault. Your uncle is one psycho motherfucker and that has nothing to do with you,” she stated confidently, before leaning forward and kissing my forehead. I wrapped my arms around her and held on for dear life, crying but also babbling about how grateful I was she was there. We spent the rest of the night watching _Harry Potter_ movies together and pointing out where the movies got things wrong or where they missed the best parts of the books. She told me how she knew she was gay and how she knew who in her life would be supportive and who wouldn’t, which was the deciding factor for who was worthy of being in her life, and she knew from the first moment she met them, Sam and Dean would be supportive to their dying breath if it ever came down to that.

They were her brothers, and her death destroyed Dean. I was half asleep in the den watching TV when they got her phone call and the look on Dean’s face terrified me in a way I had very rarely been terrified. It was on the same level as learning my family was filled with werewolves and being told my uncle felt he had some ownership over me and had planned to kidnap me. When they ran out of the bunker, I knew that nothing good was going to come their way. It just didn’t seem to be the way things went. When Sam returned broken hearted, I knew I had been right, and I started to avoid them. I would make my grocery runs during the days they were home and kept to my room as much as I could. Even when Dean took off, I continued to keep to myself. I knew it wasn’t fair, but I was scared I would be the next one who got hurt because they loved the brothers or they would get hurt because of me again, and I didn’t think I could handle that.

The day the Stynes arrived, I was proven correct. I was home alone, Sam out doing god knows what and Dean off hunting on his own, when the door slams open and several loud, excitable male voices start to echo. I peek out of the kitchen doorway to see two rather large men and a teenage boy probably not much younger than me descending the staircase, looking excited and bloodthirsty. I quickly duck back in the kitchen, hoping they didn’t see me, but unsure of what my next move should be. I don’t know who to call. Sam is an emotional wreck who hadn’t been home much lately; Dean is angry and somewhere in Louisiana last I had heard from him; and Castiel is either trailing Dean or somewhere in Heaven where he wouldn’t be able to answer his phone. I decide I’ll try Dean first, as I hear them yell out something about the Stynes and realize these were the people who killed Charlie, the people Dean had gone after. I’m not sure if them being here meant he was dead or what, but I know I need backup. I can’t take on three men on my own.

“What,” Dean snaps when he finally answers.

“Dean,” I whisper, holding my phone to my ear as tightly as I could while crouching under the kitchen counter, “There’s people here, I think they’re Stynes. What do I do?”

He curses. “Where are you?”

“The kitchen, they’ve been running around all over the place, I don’t know if they’re going to find me, but I can’t go anywhere.”

“Okay, you’re right. Stay exactly where you are, no matter what. I’m almost back to the bunker, I overheard daddy Styne tell them to head to Kansas, so I’ve been following. I’ll be there in less than an hour. Can you stay quiet that long, kid?”

I could still feel my hands shaking, but Dean was so close. “Yeah,” I answer. “I have one of the big kitchen knives just in case. I won’t go anywhere, I promise.”

“Good. I’ll be there soon.” With that, he hangs up and I’m alone again.

I sit there, gripping my knife for dear life, for what felt like days, but was probably only about half an hour. Time was ticking down until Dean got there and I really thought I would get lucky. And that was when Roscoe entered the room. He stomped around, pulling open drawers and cupboards and looking for something, when he finally crouches down and pulls me out of my spot with a sickly smile. I gulp and try to take a swing at him, but he’s faster than me and catches my hand. He twists it behind my back and makes me drop the knife before spinning us both around and pushing me out the door. I stumble ahead of him into the library, seeing the teenager flip through one of the older volumes before looking up at us. He gulps when he sees me and straightens up.

“Hey,” Roscoe snaps, tightening his grip on me when I try to squirm away. “This isn’t a damn library.” He shoves me forward and takes the book away from the kid with his other hand. The kid blinks a couple times, eyes darting around the room.

“Yeah, it is,” he says, confused, and reaches out to take the book back. Roscoe turns his body a little, keeping the book out of reach.

“No reading. Box it or burn it.” At that, I glance up at him sharply, terror clear in my eyes. He laughs deep in his chest at the look on my face before chucking the book on the huge pile of other books and relics in the middle of the room. The tables have all been shoved off to the side haphazardly and the room has clearly been ransacked. He takes this opportunity to pull a zip-tie from his back pocket, before grabbing my other hand. He wrenches my arms behind me and quickly locks the zip-tie into place around my wrists. I hiss as he pulls it too tight and I know already there’s going to be marks when it comes off. Well, _if_ it comes off. I’m still hoping Dean gets here in time, because I have no idea what their plan is for me now. He pushes me off to the side, my back slamming against one of the pillars and his hand on my shoulder pushes me until I’m sitting on the floor facing him and the kid. He grins down at me. “Stay,” he says when he lets go, then turns to face the kid. “I know this is your first rodeo, Cyrus, but man up, okay? Now, I’m gonna go check out their sex dungeon,” he points over his shoulder with his thumb. “You keep an eye on her and finish up.” With that, Roscoe leaves and the kid looks at me, terror written through his entire body.

Cyrus watches him leave, muttering, “Douche,” under his breath, and I almost laugh. Not so sunny in paradise for the Stynes it seems.

Cyrus takes a step towards me and I pull my legs tighter to my body. “Don’t,” I say shakily. He stops, almost looking surprised that I said anything. He looks almost apologetic.

“I’m Cyrus,” he says. “I’m not gonna hurt you or anything.” He turns back to the pile, almost leaving me alone as he bends down and pulls out a picture of the boys with their Uncle Bobby. He glances at it for a moment before the other man, the loud one who killed Charlie announces his presence.

Eldon walks tall, as though he is a very important man on a very important mission, and I suppose in his mind, he probably is. No way this guy is completely sane. “So, this is what I know about Dean Winchester,” he says, placing a box of Dean’s things on the table next to Cyrus. “He’s got crappy taste in music,” he tosses some records onto the pile, and pulls out a picture of Dean, baby Sam, and their mom, “got a hot mom,” and glances up to see Cyrus standing behind him and me sitting on the floor against the column. He smirks. “Who’ve we got here?” Cyrus shrugs, not having asked who I am.

Eldon rolls his eyes and shoves Cyrus out of the way to crouch down in front of me. He caresses my cheek with one of his fingers, creating a false sense of safety with his gentleness, before gripping my jaw. “Who might you be?”

I glare at him, keeping my mouth shut. Not like my name will make any difference to these people. Whatever they’re going to do to me, they’re going to do with or without knowing who I am. He increases the pressure on my jaw until I cry out. Cyrus lunges forward and pulls Eldon back. “C’mon, dude, let her be.” Eldon looks over his shoulder to the kid and then looks back at me. He gives me a chilling smile and stands up.

He rubs his hands together and picks up the can of gasoline I didn’t notice until now. “Alright, let’s light her up.” My eyes go wide and I lean forward, trying to get my feet under me to stand up. Bad enough they’ve broken in here after murdering someone the boys loved, but now they want to set the library and their personal photos on fire? For what purpose? Cyrus catches me gently as I lurch too far forward and helps me get properly balanced on my knees. I glare up at him and the other man.

“What is your _problem_?” I yell at them. Cyrus takes a step back, frowning at me, but Eldon chuckles menacingly and takes a step towards me.

“The Winchesters,” he says simply. “They are my problem. They’ve got all this information and lore around them and what do they do with it? _Nothing_ ,” he hisses at me. “They’re wasting it and that makes me angry. So, if no one is going to put it to good use, I might as well take it out of the equation.” That’s when we hear the footsteps. Roscoe lands hard against the doorway, grimacing as he tries to hold himself up. “Roscoe?” Eldon calls. The man leans forward more, showing the knife in his back and the blood pouring out of the wound. Seconds later, he hits the ground, dead. I scream and Eldon takes that time to haul me up to my feet and pull a knife out of his jacket pocket.

He clearly knew what was happening before I did, as he puts the knife to my throat just before Dean appears at the top of the stairs, covered in blood and furious. “Well, there he is,” Eldon sneers and pulls me tighter against his body, the knife digging into my skin. I whimper, internally begging Dean to make eye contact. He looks absolutely terrifying right now and I need to know that none of that blood is his. I need to know he’s okay, that he has a plan. I can hear the kid behind us breathing shakily too, clearly completely out of his depth right now. Eldon says something about marshmallows, egging Dean on.

Dean’s eyes look around the room briefly before landing back on Eldon. He completely skips over me like I’m not even here, and in the state he’s in, I’m not sure he knows I am.

“Been looking for you.”


	12. Chapter 12

Dean, while a scary man on his own if you don’t know him, is generally the most lovable person I have ever met. He is excitable, loves what he loves, and is incredibly kind, Mark of Cain notwithstanding. But right now, I was having a hard time convincing myself that he was not the most terrifying person I’d ever met. Covered in blood and standing there without a weapon in his hand, he still managed to intimidate everyone else in the room. And this was coming from the girl who had a knife pressed to her throat by someone else.

“Well, ya found me,” Eldon drawls. “Don’t tell me you’re still sore about…oh, what was her name?”

I stiffen. “Charlie,” I whisper at the same time that Dean bites out, “Charlie. Her name was Charlie.” I can feel the smugness radiating off of Eldon.

“Yeah, well,” he says, “ _Chucky_ , she got what she deserved. Wanna know how I did her? It’s a kinda funny story.” I shudder and he smirks, burying his nose in my hair, dragging the knife up to my chin. My eyes shot up to Dean’s face.

“Dean,” I beg. He still won’t meet my eyes. He knew I would be here; knew I would be in trouble. Maybe he’s mad I’m ruining his revenge. “Dean, help me, please.”

“Shut up,” he snaps, both at Eldon and me. Eldon pulls me back a few steps and uses his free hand to pull out a lighter. He thrusts it at Cyrus, who’s standing there stock still, unsure of what to do with himself. He looks up at his brother with a pained expression, begging to be left out of this. I can’t blame him. I wish they’d left me out of this too.

“Straight to it, then. I respect that. See, you got lucky before. This time, I’m sporting some new upgrades. See my old man –” Dean cuts him off.

“Your old man’s dead. They’re all dead.” I gasp and Eldon puts his hand on my shoulder and digs his fingers in. At least that answers my questions about the blood all over him. I shiver as Eldon begins to toy with the knife, running it over my cheek, my chin, my lips, and my throat.

Eyes filling with tears, I look to Dean again. This time, he’s looking directly at me. Out of the corner of my eye I see his left hand moving slightly. From an outsider’s perspective, it could appear as though he’s simply tapping on his leg, but I know better. The boys made me learn Morse code while they were training and teaching me, thinking it might be helpful since I don’t have a lifetime of working with them under my belt to know the way they work. My eyes dart to his hand which seems to have been on repeat, but starts again when he sees my eyes.

\- .. --- .-- -. _Down_. I look back up to his face and give a short, quick nod that could be mistaken for anything but. His fingers stop, before starting a countdown. His other hand has been on his side near his back the whole time, so I know it won’t take long. _Three_. I take a deep breath. I might have to chance getting cut at least a little bit. _Two._ I don’t think I can watch this. I slowly move my head forwards as though I’m going to pass out, but not too fast to catch too much of Eldon’s attention. _One_. I snap my head back as hard as I can into his face, feeling his nose break on impact and his hands move away just enough for me to drop to my knees on the ground.

_Bang_. Just like that, Eldon is dead. Without a single pause, he moves to shoot Cyrus as well, who is just standing there, still holding the lighter, staring at his brother. When he realizes what Dean means to do, he drops the lighter in favour of putting his hands up. “No no no no no, don’t! Don’t,” he begs.

“Dean,” I say softly, shifting on my knees a little bit. “Dean, stop, he wasn’t involved. He was literally just here.”

“Doesn’t matter. He’s one of them.” He sounds cold, detached.

Cyrus balks. “No. No, I’m not! Okay, I hate my family! See, look! No stitches. I’m not like them, I promise.” He pulls his shirt up to illustrate his point, revealing a body free of any marks, including normal scars or freckles. I’m struggling to get to my feet now, knowing that Dean is probably too far gone. Cyrus sees this and takes a step towards me, hand stretched out to help, I assume.

“Don’t!” Dean levels the gun at him again, having let it drop a little bit. We both still, Cyrus’ hand just barely grazing my shoulder. “Get your hand off her. Now,” he growls.

“I just – I was just going to help her up,” he says, holding both hands in front of him again. I look to Dean, who’s looking at me with anger in his eyes that I’ve never seen before. He seems to be contemplating something. He reaches with his free hand into his pocket and chucks something small at Cyrus.

“Cut the ties. _Only_ the ties. One wrong move, a bullet is going in your brain.” Cyrus nods and kneels down behind me, opening the pocketknife to slice open the zip ties. When he does, I breathe a sigh of relief, finally able to bring my hands in front of my body. I was right about one thing; there are big, red, angry lines around them. Cyrus snaps the knife shut again and hands it to me. I give him a small smile in return and stand up.

I walk to Dean and hand him the knife. I hear Cyrus stand up behind me. “Now what?” I ask. Dean frowns, looking down at me to his side.

“What do you mean, now what? Now I shoot him. We take down the monsters.”

My mouth falls open and I take a small step back in Cyrus’ direction. “What? But he’s not a monster. He was trying to help me!” He narrows his eyes at me, reaching out to grab my arm and pushes me behind him.

“It’s in his blood. He can save the damsel in distress all he wants, but that bad…will always win.” Well, if he won’t listen to reason, I’ll make him listen. He made a mistake in letting go of me once he thought I was safely behind him, so I dart forward and stand between him and Cyrus. There is fire in his eyes now, but I steel myself against it. I can’t just let him kill another innocent person whose only fault is to whom they were born. That’s what happened with Mark, and I’m not letting it happen again.

Cyrus is crying, begging Dean not to hurt him. He babbles on about going away, going to university, changing his name. He’ll tell us everything we want to know about what he’s doing and where he lives if we want. Meanwhile, I continue to stare Dean down, knowing if I move an inch, Cyrus is dead, if only so he will stop talking. My phone, forgotten but still in my pocket, starts to vibrate. I pull it out quickly and glance at it to see who is calling. Castiel. Fuck. It goes to voicemail, but then immediately starts ringing again. Dean snorts.

“Answer the phone, he probably knows I’m here anyways.” I lift the phone to my ear with a shaking hand, answering the call.

“Hi Castiel,” I whisper.

“Melissa, thank god. You didn’t pick up the phone,” he accuses.

“Yeah, sorry, I uh just missed your call,” I lie, watching Dean for any kind of reaction. His face is like stone, though, and he doesn’t even blink.

“Dean is coming back to the bunker; he probably is going to be there very soon. If you go into my room, there’s an extra set of car keys on the dresser for the black car in the garage. You need to get out of there,” he insists. I can hear the engine of the truck in the background struggling to keep up with the pace he is setting.

Still with my eyes on Dean, I swallow hard. “Well, I missed that boat by a long shot so what’s plan b?”

Silence, then, “Run. He slaughtered an entire house filled with people, dozens of them, even children. Get out of there, now.”

“ _What_?” In my shock, it doesn’t register that Dean is moving, nor that the truck has stopped making sounds. All Dean really has to do is step to the side, and he gets a clear shot. He takes it.

I hear Cyrus’ body drop and spin around, dropping my phone. I glare at Dean with as much venom as I can muster, the tears filling my eyes taking away from the anger. He shrugs and puts his gun away, uncaring.

“Dean!” Castiel is here. Thank god. Castiel is here. Castiel is here. He can help us. He can help Dean.

When Dean turns to face him, so do I, letting him see the body. I couldn’t care less about the other two, but I genuinely do not think Cyrus was going to hurt anyone, ever. Especially not me, not here. “What have you done?” Castiel rushes over to me and puts his hand on Cyrus’ forehead, then drops his head. “You killed him.”

I choke out a sob as Dean responds. He and Castiel continue to argue but I cannot tear my eyes away. That is, until I hear Dean take a swing at the angel. _That_ gets my attention. Spinning around and lurching to my feet, I see Castiel fall after taking several hits. “Dean!” I scream, rushing towards him. He barely glances up at me, just puts his arm out to grab me. He holds me against him face to face and I hit him, over and over, on his chest, his shoulders, even his face.

“Dean, stop,” Castiel croaks from the floor. I pause and look back behind me to see him covered in blood and broken. I try to wrench free, but Dean won’t let go. It’s only when I slump in his arms, the fight leaving me, that he pays me any attention.

“I don’t want to hurt you, kid. You and Sam and Cas need to leave me alone. I’m fine.” I’m still shaking from the adrenaline and fear, but he knows when I shake my head at his statement. He sighs and brings his other hand up to his face, pinching his nose, before rubbing it down his face. “You’re really pushing it. I didn’t wanna have to do this but…” He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a set of handcuffs. My fight renewed, not wanting to be restrained again, I kick his knee and jump back. He lets go of me, but I’m trapped between him and the wall of drawers. He looks at the drawers behind me and smiles coldly. He reaches for my left hand, snaps a cuff on it, and then snaps the other cuff around a drawer handle. He turns back to Castiel, who has pushed himself to a kneeling position.

I’m so busy trying to free myself from the cuff that I miss the rest of the fight, only turning in time to see Dean pull out Castiel’s angel blade and line up to stab him. “No!” I shout. “Dean, no, please, no.” At the same time, Castiel whispers the same thing, a plea for his life. Dean hesitates before bringing the blade down hard. I scream.

The blade stabs a book next to Castiel’s head, much too close for my liking, but he didn’t stab the angel, so I take what I can get. I heave a whole-body sigh of relief and Dean stands up. He starts to walk away, talking over his shoulder to Castiel. “You and Sam stay the hell away from me. Next time I won’t miss.” He glances over to me. “Sorry, sweetheart. Here,” he throws the key to me. “I know _you_ won’t be able to find me. But, just so ya know, if you do? It better be at my motel room.” He winks at me before leaving the room. Moments later I hear the front door slam shut.

He’s gone.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!!! I'm back!! I've been super crazy at work, we're short staffed and it's back to school season (even if we don't go back??). BUT I still need someone to read over a different chapter for me if possible!!!!!!! :) THANK YOU  
> ALSO I really appreciate all the bookmarks and kudos and comments. They make my day

When Sam gets back, I’m once again sitting on the floor of the library and leaning against a post, looking at the picture Cyrus was fascinated by, the one of Sam, Dean, and Bobby. Castiel had managed to get the bodies out of here with very little fanfare and even grabbed me a bottle of whiskey before he did that. Sam finds me half-cut, staring at this old photo, wondering where that Dean went. Wondering how this became my life. Seeing Cyrus drop to the floor, a bullet in his forehead. Counting the number of dead bodies I’ve seen since I met the Winchesters.

Wondering if it would be easier if I were with Keith.

“Hey,” Sam says softly when he reaches me and crouches down. I’m pretty drunk right now, having drank almost half the bottle of whiskey and given that I’ve never been much of a drinker, it doesn’t really take too much for me. I roll my head up to look at the giant moose.

“Hey Sammy, where ya been? Missed a great party. Can’t have a Winchester party without a few dead bodies, am I right,” I winked and giggled. “You should have some of this.” I hold out the bottle for Sam who stares at it in shock and rips it from my hand.

“Where did you get this?”

“The angel gave it to me. Heaven wanted me to feel better, I think. Maybe God is sorry,” I slur. “He definitely should be. I mean, did you see Dean? Oh wait, you weren’t here. Um, he was terrifying. Like absolutely the scariest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Including the weird ass werewolves y’all showed me.”

Sam sighs and puts the bottle down on the shelf by my head. He reaches down to grab my hands. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.” He wraps an arm around my waist when I lean to one side and nearly fall and guides me to my room. He lays me down and takes off my shoes. “Goodnight, Melissa,” he whispers, a look of pain clearly etched into his face.

“Sammy?”

“Yeah, kiddo.”

“Thank you for taking care of me. You don’t scare me,” I mumble and roll onto my side, my arm flopping off the bed.

I can hear Sam take in a sharp breath where he’s standing in the doorway, hand poised to shut off the light. He sighs deeply. “What the hell am I supposed to do here, Dean?” After standing there for another moment, he finally shuts off the light and closes my door, leaving me to sleep off the alcohol.

Sam is gone before I wake up the next day and so is Castiel, if he had even stayed. They stay gone for a few days. The first one to return is Castiel and he is covered in blood again. I had hidden in the library when I heard the door open, not convinced it wouldn’t be some other random psycho coming to ransack the place, and when I saw Castiel, I stayed put. I was not having any more knives held to my throat, thank you _very_ much.

We both stay in the library for a long time. I briefly fall asleep but it doesn’t last very long, curled up like I am. Castiel is breathing hard just feet away from me and I can’t help but feel slightly unsafe right now, given all the blood and the last time I saw someone covered in blood like that. I feel like I can finally breathe again when I hear Sam respond to him, but my heart immediately stops when I hear Dean’s voice. Castiel is no longer my biggest problem.

I scramble out of my spot behind one of the shelves to peek around at the boys. They’ve immediately stooped to aid Castiel, which might be my perfect opening. I bolt from the library in hopes of getting to my room. It’s time to go.

I don’t have much here in the way of clothes or items. I have a small handful of things that are important to me now that everyone I ever loved or cared about is dead to me or believes me to be dead, so it doesn’t take me long to pack up my backpack again. It hits me that this time, I’m packing it willingly, but with the same amount of terror in my heart. I may feel the need to leave here because I don’t feel entirely safe, but I don’t know what to do once I get out _there_. How to hide. How to be a person.

That can be figured out later. Right now is my time to get gone. I walk out of my room to complete silence, which is eery, but not uncommon. I have been alone in the Batcave however many times, for who knows how long. There is no way I’ll be able to get my hands on a vehicle so I resign myself to walking, but have to figure out which exit will be best. The front door leads straight outside and requires no additional help, but it’s really loud. The garage door won’t close again and will let them know very quickly that I’ve left, but it’s almost silent. It could just leave me open to capture again.

I sigh, rubbing my hand down my face and slide down the wall to sit on the floor. My backpack falls to the side of me and I cradle my head in my hands. _I don’t need to escape. The Winchesters didn’t capture me. They have kept me safe._ This becomes my mantra for the next hour or so before Dean finally comes down the hallway. He’s humming lowly under his breath and his footsteps get closer and closer until they just stop. In a fog, I don’t really pay him any attention until he speaks.

“Melissa?”

My head flies up so fast that I crack it on the wall behind me. Dean winces in sympathy and reaches out a hand to help me up. My eyes widen and I turn, trying to back up down the hallway, grab my backpack, and get to my feet at the same time. “What are you doing here?” I ask shakily, hoping to distract him.

He frowns slightly. “I…live here? You know that, kid, what’s going on?”

My hands are shaking, and I feel like I’m going to vomit violently as I finally get my feet under me. “N-nothing,” I stammer, “just surprised to see you, that’s all. Been all alone for a while now.” Does he not remember what happened?

His eyes narrow further. “How you holding up?”

“From what?”

“The Stynes…kid, are you feeling okay? Do you want some water?”

Here’s my shot. “Yeah, I think so, thanks. I’m kinda fuzzy.” Of course, that’s when he finally takes note of the backpack. His faces morphs into disappointment and as he walks past me towards the kitchen, he snags the bag out of my hands.

“You wanna leave, you’re gonna talk to us first.” No conversation, nothing. His decision is made.

“Look, I can’t…I can’t be here anymore. This isn’t my life. How many times am I gonna come out of what should be my bedroom and go into the kitchen or the library and not feel safe? How many times are one of you going to come back severely injured and covered in blood? I don’t know how many times I can handle having my life threatened, either. This may all be okay with you guys, cause you’re superheroes in your Batcave or whatever,” Dean snorts at that, “but this ain’t me. I’m just a kid with no money to her name, no home, and no family. I need to go figure out what my next step is because I’m going to go insane if I have to stay in here for the rest of my life.”

Sam frowns and exchanges a look with Dean. “Melissa, no one ever said you’d have to stay here the rest of your life. Where did you get that idea?”

I looked between the two, not sure what they were talking about. “Um, were you there when the psychotic werewolf that is my uncle was talking about keeping me like an object? Cause he said he can hunt me down or something, like a dog. And I’m sorry if I don’t want to spend the rest of my life living in his basement or something equally fucked up.”

“Yeah…which means if you leave and go off on your own, guess what? You turn into a werewolf’s favourite chew toy,” Dean says roughly.

“And what’s my other option? Stay here and watch you guys beat each other half to death and kill other people in front of me and do nothing about my uncle? My plan is to go overseas somewhere. Get on a plane and don’t look back. No trace of me left.” I thought this through, he can’t follow my scent that far.

Dean runs his hand down his face. “Melissa…We’re going to find your uncle and we’re going to kill him. I know it’s been tough to be here and I’m sorry you got hurt, but I’d feel a lot better if you were here.”

“How about this,” Sam pipes up, “What if you get a job in Lebanon and maybe an apartment if that goes well? You’ll still be close by and if you do move out, we’d make sure you’re well protected.”

Sam’s idea, while not something I came up with while I was trying to come up with solutions, sounds really good. While I do want to be free of this life and the fear, I wasn’t really ready to be completely on my own on a new continent, trying to start a new life. I wouldn’t even be able to be _me_ because I’m supposed to be dead.

But on the other hand, it also means I would continue to live here, with Dean. And maybe Castiel, depending on what was going on with him earlier.

Seeing me hesitate, Dean glances at Sam and jerks his head slightly towards the door. Sam purses his lips but relents and leaves the room, leaving me alone with Dean for the first time since the Stynes. The second he leaves, I freeze.

“You’re scared of me.” It’s not a question. He knows it’s the truth, but I can hear the pain in his voice, wishing it wasn’t. I look to him and meet his eyes for the first time.

“A little,” I whisper. “I’m sorry.”

He laughs darkly. “I really wish you hadn’t been there that day. Other than when I was a demon – “

“A _what_?”

“Ah, fuck,” he mutters. “A demon. Happened about a year ago, but the Mark, that thing on my arm, wouldn’t let me die. So, black eyes. Sam was able to cure me, but I still had the Mark. Until a few days ago.”

My eyes widen and I look down at his arm. He rolls up his sleeve a little more to show me his whole forearm and, sure enough, there is no mark there. My hand moves forward on its own, gently touching the clear skin. Dean takes in a breath sharply and I rip my hand away.

“Sorry, I just – how…how did it go away? Why didn’t you do that before?”

He grimaces. “Well, we didn’t know we could for a long time. It was in this old, evil spell book and when done, something called the Darkness gets released. And…Sam had Rowena do the spell. So, I’m free but the world is fucked. Again.”

It takes me a minute to actually process what he’s saying. “So, you’re not angry anymore?” He smiles sadly and shakes his head. “Okay.” I take a deep breath in. “Okay. Good. That, uh, that makes it better. Um, I wasn’t sure what you remembered, honestly.”

“I remember everything. I am so sorry, kiddo. I wish I had a reason for scaring you like that, or hurting you, or even cuffing you. I would take it all back if I could.”

I nod, lost in thought for a moment. Then something flashes back to me and I look up to meet his eyes again. I tilt my head and narrow my eyes slightly, not angry, but contemplating. “All of it?” I ask.

He seems confused for a moment before he remembers, then he huffs and stands up. He grabs a beer from the fridge and leans against the counter to drink it. He doesn’t say anything for a while. Then he finally meets my eyes again.

With a smirk, “Maybe not all of it.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lots of dialogue here peeps and finally (sorry) earning my relationship tags!

It takes a few days, but Sam and Dean come to an agreement between the two of them that it would be alright for me to go get a job in town, but continue to live at the bunker. They’ll make sure I have a functioning car to get there and back if they aren’t here, but I have to get a couple tattoos first.

They call Castiel for the first one. When he appears in front of me in the library, I startle, still not used to him appearing out of thin air. “Hey, Cas. What’s up?”

“The Winchesters have asked me to come and brand your ribs like I did theirs, to keep you safe from angels when you go to work. They told me you’ll be working at the grocery store?”

I nod. “Yeah, I mean, it’s not much, but it’ll get me out of the house and make some money and I’ll feel like I’m at least kind of useful again. I’ve just been hiding out for however many months, expecting everyone else to take care of me,” I say. “I also finally convinced Dean to teach me basic fighting and weapons instead of just how to research and speak various languages, because if something does happen out there, I need to be prepared to help myself.”

Castiel sighs. “I wish you would not place yourself in danger like this. The brothers are not in need of money like normal humans are.”

“Yeah, but I am a normal human and when I get out of here, I need to have something to live off of. So, a job. Anyways, we gonna do this or what?” Castiel puts his hand on my chest, just below the bottom of my bra and his hand seems to glow for a second, before the worst pain I’ve ever experienced seems to drill into my ribs one by one. I manage not to scream, but immediately collapse into a chair, panting.

“Hey, kid, you okay?” Dean comes jogging up the stairs, gun in his hand. Maybe I did scream. He notices the angel and nods at him, before putting his gun away, satisfied that there isn’t any danger to be found right now.

I grunt in affirmation, the best I can offer him right now. He chuckles and turns to Castiel. “How’s it going, buddy?”

“I am still trying to find someone in Heaven who knows about the Darkness. There are rumours that even Lucifer is afraid of her, his scream was heard throughout Hell and Heaven when the Darkness was set free. But so far, I know nothing more than I did last time I checked in.”

Dean grimaces, clapping him on the shoulder. “We’ll figure it out, man. Always do.” He crouches down in front of me, my breathing finally returning to normal. “Your appointment for the tattoo is in three hours, but it’s in Lincoln, so we gotta hit the road. You ready to go?”

“So, what’s this you were telling Cas about getting out of here? You that eager to get away from us, sweetheart?” Dean gives a sideways glance from his spot at the wheel to where I am in the passenger seat, scrolling through my phone. I look up at him and frown.

“What do you mean?”

He frowns. “Well, you said you’d need money to get out of here, like you were escaping.”

I look away from him, out the window to watch the fields fly by. “Dean…I appreciate everything you guys have done for me and I’m so grateful you’ve kept me safe. But it’s almost been a year and at some point, I need to be a person again. I just feel like I didn’t just lose my family some days. I feel like I lost myself and my freedom. I know it’s cause of my uncle and so its irrational to blame you or Sam or Castiel, but the bunker almost feels more like a prison than a sanctuary these days, ya know? And I’ve forgotten to be alone and…” I pause, not sure I want to admit much more. It’s probably a mistake to have said this much.

Dean elbows me gently. “And?”

I sigh. “I’m not even sure I can be alone at this point. Like, the idea of living alone with no one to ever come home to or have come home is kind of terrifying. Or having to keep myself alive all on my own. Fuck, I’ll have to pay for literally everything I have to do to live. I’m completely on my own and I’m barely nineteen and I know it could be worse, but there’s still a fucking werewolf out there that, at one point or another, seemed to think he could lay a claim to me.”

Dean doesn’t say anything after that until we get to Lincoln.

When we go inside the tattoo shop, I can tell the tattoo artist is immediately suspicious. A young girl and an older man come in together requesting that she receive the same cult-like tattoo he already has, in a hidden place on her body, and the man also insists on being in the room while it’s done (for my safety, of course)? I’d be a little wary too. As it is though, I’m too fucking excited at the prospect of being able to go out on my own again to care about what anyone else thinks. And really – Dean is only fifteen or so years older than I am. All things considered; he could be my older brother for all this guy knows. And he’s a little too obviously afraid of Dean to say anything.

He puts it on my right hip, somewhere easily hidden and where no one will get to see unless I really trust them and want them to see it. It’s not like I go to the beach or anything anymore. If I wanted to go swimming, I’m sure the boys would be able to find a pool somewhere inside the Batcave; that place has a never-ending number of previously undiscovered rooms.

It’s when Dean goes out to pay that the man sees his opening. “Hey, darling, are you okay? Is he forcing you to do this?” I almost laugh until I see the sincerity on his face. He genuinely wants to ensure I am doing this of my own free will.

“I promise,” I say softly, laying my hand over his. I try to embed as much sincerity as I can with my eyes. “Dean would _never_ hurt me. He’d die first.” There’s no doubt in my mind that I’m telling the truth. I don’t think there’s been a point since I actually met Dean Winchester as the hunter, the man he is that I haven’t trusted him completely. It’s why the Styne situation scared me so much. I’d put all my trust in him to get me out of there, and he did, but he also nearly killed his best friend and restrained me against my will. But when he asks me to get a tattoo to keep me from being possessed, I don’t even think about it.

That’s the first time I realize I may have a bit of a crush on Dean Winchester.

On the drive home, Dean is uncharacteristically quiet. I leave him be for the first half, but as we get closer to the bunker, I decide it’s time to pry.

“Dean?” He hums, not really paying attention. “Everything okay?”

He finally looks over at me, clearly surprised by the question. “Yeah, why?”

I shrug. “I don’t know, you’ve been really quiet ever since you went to pay at the shop. Did you want me to pay for it? I do still have a little bit of money from Wal-Mart. I could pay you back, now or later, I guess. Or I can just start buying the groceries for the bunker? I can’t buy the alcohol though, the legal age down here is twenty-one, which I think is complete bullshit by the way. How come I can drink in Canada and like, almost everywhere else in the world, but the second I cross your border, I’m relegated to child status again? It’s not even like it’s stopping me from drinking. You guys give me beer and shit all the time, but I guess no one can really get mad cause no one knows I’m here or that you’re alive or that we live in some giant, war-era Batcave that may as well be invisible, built by a secret organization that believes in monsters and shit. Cops hear that and we’re getting locked up, but not for the underage drinking and definitely not in a jail. Well, I’m not.” I’m rambling and Dean finally seems to realize it and puts one hand over my mouth, putting a stop to it. I look at him with wide eyes before he jolts back to himself and removes his hand.

“Jesus, kid. Are _you_ okay? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that much, and fuck if you didn’t take a single breath that whole time,” he says, amused. I shrug again.

“It’s a talent. I just have a way with words, I guess.” That makes him laugh, an actual, real laugh, and it makes me so happy, I beam with pride and I swear I can _feel_ my heart warm up.

“Or something, that’s for sure,” he jokes. Then he pauses. “I was just thinking about the way that guy was looking at us. And I heard him ask you if you were okay, which reminded me that I haven’t asked you that in a while. Although I suppose I got my answer in more ways than one today, didn’t I?” I tilt my head and frown slightly to convey my confusion, a near picture-perfect recreation of Castiel. Dean chuckles at the image and I give him a warm smile, getting the reaction I wanted. “You know, when you were talking with Cas earlier and said you wanted to leave. Then when you told that guy that I would never hurt you. Seemed a little conflicting to me but I thought about it. You don’t feel unsafe or scared because you’re in the bunker with us, you just feel unsafe in general. And, for some damn reason, you trust me to not hurt you. But you don’t trust me to keep you safe?”

I think about that for a few minutes. I notice he left Sam out completely and I make a note to come back to that train of thought. “I don’t think that’s it. I know you’ll keep me safe. It’s why Eldon wasn’t able to slit my throat and why you handcuffed me to the wall even in the middle of beating up Castiel. You kept me safe. But it was hard to tell what the purpose of that was, until you left. Then I thought you only did it because you hoped to get a good fuck out of me yet.” Dean opens his mouth to protest but I hold up my hand. “Not done. I know it wasn’t you. I want to be a person again and yes, that might mean leaving the Batcave, but it mostly means being able to do whatever I want, whatever I need, whenever. Right now, my uncle is winning. He doesn’t know it, but he’s completely destroyed me, and he is winning and if he showed up tomorrow, I’m not entirely positive I’d be capable of putting up a strong fight. Not because I don’t want to live or because I don’t want to stay with you guys, but because I’m not entirely sure what my purpose is at this point. I don’t do a whole lot. That has nothing to do with you though. That’s my uncle and his fucked-up ideas.” I reach over to Dean and take his hand in mine. “I trust you, Dean. I know you would do whatever it takes to keep me safe. When you came back, I was scared because you had hurt Castiel and I didn’t want to watch anyone else get hurt. I wasn’t scared that you would hurt me. Not then, not now, probably not ever. You care about me and about everyone a lot more than you show, but I can see it in your eyes.”

Without me noticing, Dean has pulled the car to the side of this little backwoods highway so he can pay me his full attention. As I’ve been speaking, he’s shifted closer and when I stop, he doesn’t even wait until he kisses me, hard, desperate, and passionate. My eyes stay open for a moment in surprise before I lean into the kiss, giving myself over to him. He pulls back after a minute or two, sheepish, and rubs the back of his neck with his hand, not meeting my eyes.

“Uh, sorry. Got kinda carried away there, um, we can just…go? And we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want, or we can, you’re a talker apparently,” he mutters. I have to hold back a smile at his nervousness.

“Dean,” I whisper, and he looks back at me, green eyes brighter than I’ve ever seen them. “I trust you. Kiss me.”

So, he does. He kisses me until I can’t breathe or see straight. At some point, he pulls away and starts driving again, but this time, he pulls me in against his side and rubs circles on my hand with his thumb until we get home. And when he takes me to his room and lays me down on his bed like I’m the most precious thing he’s ever touched, I feel like I’m floating on air. He worships my body, giving me the attention he thinks I deserve. There isn’t a spot on my body that goes unnoticed by him and he refuses to accept anything from me, insisting that this is just for me. He tells me all he wants now and for a long time to come is to take care of me. When he’s finally removed all of our clothes and he looks at me for permission, I whisper once more, “I trust you.” Dean takes my virginity like he takes my breath away, gently, kindly, beautifully. When we both tire, we fall asleep tangled in each other, clothes forgotten on the floor, sheets pulled up to our chests.

At some point in the night, I wake up with my head on his chest. His right arm is wrapped tight around my back and his left-hand rests lightly on my cheek. I smile to myself and kiss the back of his hand. “Thank you,” I whisper, before letting myself fall back asleep to the sound of his heartbeat and dream of green eyes and perfect smiles and enough freckles to rival my own.


	15. Chapter 15

I start my job two days after Dean and I first sleep together, and he spends those days with me in the gym and the firing range. He says he wants me to be over prepared if something were to happen. On the day he teaches me to fight, however, we spend a lot more time kissing than we do fighting. It’s only once we get to weapons that I’m even somewhat useful, which I think is better than fighting because if I have to fight my uncle face-to-face, I’ve already lost. Dean, of course, thinks I’m wrong and if I “would just try a little harder” and “punch me in the face, Melissa, c’mon!” then I would be fine.

Sam sits down with me after lunch to go over a few spells and warding sigils that I can use to defend myself should anyone demonic or angelic show up. He was also able to find some sort of herb that should cover up my scent as much as possible, but it isn’t exactly foolproof. So, per my request and Dean’s enthusiastic agreement, Sam finds me a small silver switchblade that I can slip into my shoe or my pocket for safekeeping. I also have a gun to keep in the car, but I can’t really bring it into the store every day and risk having someone find it. Last thing I need is to be arrested.

Finally, the boys make up fake IDs for me, so my real name doesn’t bring any unwanted attention on us. I am now Melanie Harrison, in the eyes of the grocery store anyways. Everyone in town knows me as Mel anyways, so it makes sense that my name could be Melanie. They make me a driver’s license and a fake social security number that they use to open a bank account for me. This way, I have somewhere for my earnings to go. Dean also takes me driving to ease his own worries about allowing me to drive on my own every day. It doesn’t matter how often I soothe him with stories of fixing up cars with my dad or learning to drive before I was a teenager, he still seems a little uneasy. And that’s not even in the realm of what he would be like if I were to ask to drive his baby.

The night before I start, we lay tangled in his bed, his fingers running through my hair absentmindedly. “Hey, Dean?” I ask softly. He hums and shifts so he can look at my face. “Do you think this is a good idea?”

He doesn’t say anything for a minute, just continues to run his fingers through my hair. After a few minutes, I elbow him gently. “Sweetheart, I don’t know. I want to tell you yes because I know how much you want to be independent and contribute to the team, but it makes me nervous having you out there unprotected. We aren’t very far right now, sure, but if we get called away on a case, you’re on your own. And with the Darkness out there…” he trails off slowly, eyes no longer focused on me.

I close my eyes and lean a little more into him. “Yeah, that’s kinda what I expected you to say,” I sigh. “I’m scared, too.”

That gets his attention. “You don’t have to do this. No one is asking you to get a job. You can just keep doing what you’ve been doing and helping with research and shit. I’d feel so much better if you did that.”

“I know you would.” I turn my face to his to give him a light kiss. “And I love how much you care about my safety, but one of these days I’m going to go crazy and I just don’t want to if I can avoid it. I want to be part of the world again. It’s only part-time.” My reassurances are doing very little to help calm him down, but this is an argument we’ve had a dozen times the last few days, most of them since our first night.

He doesn’t respond to me, just pulls me closer to his chest and holds me tightly. I can tell he’s nervous about me being out on my own just in case something happens, especially now that we’ve started…whatever this is. Sleeping together, I guess, since we haven’t put a name on it. Although he did decide that he’s going to drive me to work in the morning so he can meet everyone and get a good look at the place. He wants to make sure he can drill me on emergency exits and safe zones should the worst happen, and maybe even find places to subtly place weapons, sigils, or spell ingredients. It’s a little overkill, but I never thought I would have someone to care about me like this again so I’m basking in it.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he whispers softly. I smile and mumble the same thing back to him and soon enough, we’re both fast asleep.

The Impala still makes me happy in a way nothing else can these days, and riding in it feels like Heaven, a safe haven. Classic cars are the one thing I have left from my dad and I’m going to keep that close to me forever. So, it’s with both a heavy and happy heart that I arrive at my first day of work. Dean and I climb out of the car at the same time and when I look at him, nervousness written all over my face, he gives me a reassuring smile and reaches for my hand as we walk inside. I’ve already filled out most of the paperwork but I was finally able to get a bank account so I have to give them all that information first, and then I can start my shift.

The manager, Douglas, is working at the customer service desk when we arrive. It is a small grocery store, fitting a small town, so there’s only two other people working right now. Doug smiles when he sees us and immediately puts down what it is he’s working on. “Melanie! Welcome! Ready for your first day?”

I give him my best smile and nod. “Yup! I just have that bank information that you wanted here,” I dig into my purse to grab what he needs, “and then I think that was everything you had asked for.”

“Sure was, thanks darlin’. And who’s this?” He looks to Dean with his hand outstretched for an introduction. I hesitate, not sure how to explain Dean. He saves me though by introducing himself.

“I’m Dean, Mel’s boyfriend. Thought I’d come down with her today and check the place out,” he says as he shakes Doug’s hand. Doug’s brow creases a little bit in confusion as he glances between us.

“Oh, I don’t remember you mentioning that you had a boyfriend, Melanie, but it’s very nice to meet you anyways. Now, I have a nametag and a set of keys all ready for you in the back so if you’ll just follow me.” With that, I’m off to follow Doug and leave Dean standing alone in the front of the store. We both know this will be the best time for him to snoop around.

Doug shows me where I can put my jacket and purse while I work, where the employee kitchen is, the bathroom, before handing me my keys and nametag and showing me the till I will start at. He gives me a quick rundown, but it is almost identical to the one I used at Wal-Mart, so I catch on very quickly. Dean emerges from the back of the store not much later and immediately comes to me for a kiss.

“No one here has any bad intentions towards you as far as I can tell,” he murmured in my ear. “I put a few sigils in the break room and the employee bathroom where I could so if something happens, or you get suspicious, that’s where you go. Call me and then _do not leave that room_ no matter what. Okay?” I nod and he squeezes me tightly. “I’ll pick you up at…?”

“Uh, four, I think,” I say. “I’ll be fine, Dean, I promise. It’s just a job.” He grimaces at that but leaves anyways and moments later I can hear the Impala peel out of the parking lot.

My first day goes by quite quickly, spent getting to know my coworkers and how things work. I serve a few of the employees I know from the diner and the liquor store that Dean frequents (my new ID says I’m twenty-two. Sam thinks I can pull it off now because there’s a _look_ in my eyes he says only comes with age and maturity). Those I don’t know I introduce myself to with a friendly smile, wanting to make a good impression on the town. Being hidden away the way I have been hasn’t made me very social, which means I haven’t had much opportunity to meet people.

By the end of the day, I’m very tired but so much happier than I was this morning. It’s not much, but it’s a purpose, a reason to get out of bed every day that isn’t life or death. I’ve lost a lot of independence the last year and a bit, but Melanie might be my key to getting myself back. Dean can see the change in me when he picks me up and he gives me a huge grin before leaning over to kiss me. “Good day?”

I nod happily. “Yeah, I feel great. It was so nice being a part of the world again and talking to people that aren’t you two – no offense. Just, sometimes I kind of like to forget the death and destruction my life revolves around these days.” His smile fades a little for a moment before coming back full force.

“Well, then you’ll be happy to know that Sammy and I have a lead. Garth heard a little something from Bess’ family that someone has started a little werewolf commune up north, though it sounds a little more cultish than commune. Someone reached out to Bess’ dad and tried to recruit them, but they aren’t into the same kind of violence this group seems to get off on. Garth’s theory is the whole thing was kickstarted by your uncle, so we’re leavin’ tomorrow to check it out. Cas is gonna meet us there,” he says. I can feel my whole body shut down at his words and I slide into the car without a word. He frowns, but goes around to the driver’s door and climbs in next to me. “Sweetheart?”

I let out a sigh that seems to shudder. “Can I just have this one day?” I whisper. “Please?”

He curses low before pulling me into his arms. He grips me as tightly as he can in the front seat of the car and kisses me on my forehead. “Of course, whatever you want. Anything.”

_It’s time to move, Keith thinks. He’s spread the word to all the packs he knows of and has asked his pack to do the same. Their numbers are in the hundreds now and with this army he’s built, he thinks he could take on the Winchesters and their angel, as well as any other hunter or supernatural entity they could bring to the table._

_He picks up a picture of his niece’s beautiful face. She’s lost a little bit of weight in the last year and her hair is longer. It’s obvious that she has lost a lot of the joy that had made her the person she was when he knew her, and he grieves for the girl who simply loved life. The one he could always count on for a sunny point of view. But he knows, deep down, it is still in her. He can see it, just hiding under the surface. The hunters have ruined her, changed who she is, but he can fix it. He can fix her. He knows her better than anyone else and he’s the only person who can help her now, the only one who cares enough about her to do it._

_She is his. That has never changed, never ceased to be an indisputable truth in his mind. In fact, the separation of the past year has only further cemented it and when he finally rescues her, he’s never going to let her go again. He will destroy the hunters who thought they could have her and he’ll fix the damage they inevitably did to her, because that is what hunters do._

_The picture he holds is recent, barely a week old. One of his newer recruits, a young man fresh from university, is quite talented when it comes to computers and he set up an electronic tracing program that would search through various video feeds and security cameras across Canada and the States to find her. Keith was desperate and there had been no sign of her anywhere. Even the police had given up on finding her alive, so he knew it would have to be his responsibility, like it always was. He was the only one who ever took proper care of her._

_“I’ll be there soon, princess, I promise,” he murmurs before giving the photo a gentle kiss. He picks up his phone and puts in a call to a powerful ally to rally the troops. It’s time to take the war to Kansas._


	16. Chapter 16

The day after they leave, Dean calls me in the morning before I go to work and in the evening when I get home. He warns me not to expect a lot of communication like that once they arrive, but for now he wants to check in when he can. We chat on speaker phone with Sam for a while, giving them updates on my day and what else I’ve been doing at the store, before he takes me off speaker to talk to me one-on-one.

“How are you doing, sweetheart? Bunker not freaking you out too much?”

I laugh. “Not any more than usual. It helps that you call me and that I get to leave it for a bit everyday now.”

He chuckles too. “Yeah, the first time Sammy left me alone there I think I turned all the lights on. It’s fucking creepy sometimes.”

“I miss you,” I say, smiling to myself. “And I’m nervous that you’re doing what you’re doing, but I also hope you’re able to finish this – as long as you do it safely. Is Castiel coming?”

“Sweetheart, safe is my middle name. And we think so, I left him a message yesterday telling him we were on our way up, so we’ll see. Worse comes to worst, I’ll send him to you. I’d rather he be with you than us anyways. We’re good on our own,” he says, and I frown.

“That’s not exactly comforting. I’d prefer it if you had backup. Didn’t you say Garth said there’s a lot of them now? Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad we have a lead and shit, but I don’t want you going in there blindly and without enough people or ammunition. I can’t lose you,” my voice breaks, the _too_ unsaid, but heard by us both.

“You won’t, Melissa, I’m good at my job,” he reassures. “I gotta go, Sammy’s back. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Okay. Be safe.” _I love you_.

“You too, baby.”

It’s a monotonous three days that go by at the beginning. I get calls from Dean every morning when he wakes up and in the evenings as well. Sometimes I talk to Sam as well, but usually it’s just us. Being in the Batcave alone again is strange but now that I appreciate it as my home, it feels different. I don’t feel as alone as I used to; sometimes it almost feels like I can hear the wards or sigils talking, comforting me. There is a certain energy that is present all the time and it makes me feel less lonely. Talking with Dean and Sam does that too, as does my job. But it all bleeds together after a while, and I’m eager for them to come home. I don’t like not knowing what’s going on, and though Dean says thus far it’s been quiet, I’m nervous about what Keith has up his sleeve.

The day Castiel returns is the day everything goes to shit.

He arrives while I’m making myself breakfast and I’m not expecting him, so when I turn around to see him standing by the door, I drop the cereal. His eyes go wide and he looks down to the cereal-covered floor then back up to me. I can’t help it – I start laughing.

“Hey, Castiel, how’s it going?” I manage to get out between giggles as I search for the broom.

“Hello, Melissa. Dean asked me to come by and see how you were doing. I am sorry if I frightened you, I had thought you were accustomed to me flying in and out of here.” He crouches down to help me clean up the cereal and when we finally get it all off the floor and into the garbage, I smile at him.

“Don’t worry about it, Dean just didn’t tell me you were coming so I was kinda surprised, that’s all. I’m happy to see you, though!” I put my hand on his arm and squeeze as I walk past him, a quick way to show affection that I picked up from my mom. She would often put a hand on my shoulder when she walked by me and squeeze to remind me she loves me, especially when I was studying or had headphones in and couldn’t hear her.

I walk down the hall to grab the little bag I bring to work with me before returning to the kitchen where Castiel is still standing. “You wanna drive to town with me? Now that I’ve spilled all the cereal, I don’t have anything for breakfast, so I was gonna go to the diner across the street from the store before work.”

He hesitates, but nods and soon we are in the car Dean set aside for me, driving to town. “So, how’s things? How are the boys?”

“Things are…good. Heaven has been quite peaceful of late, which is unusual and with the Darkness walking free, it is unexpected. They have been quite forthcoming with me when I require information. The Winchesters are not having much success, however. It seems your uncle has barricaded himself inside the yard he has commandeered and there is something that is rendering them incapable of entering. I am told Garth will be joining them sometime later today to assist,” he says. It’s more of an update than I’ve been able to get out of Dean so far. He wants to protect me so he sticks with the fact that they haven’t actually done anything yet, but didn’t mention that Garth would be going or that they literally couldn’t get onto the property.

I frown, thinking back to the farm. “Does it cover the entire farm? Or have they tried to get in through the back pasture? There’s a little creek that runs through it and the treeline at the back of the yard they could use for access. Not really sure how all that works, though.”

Castiel looks at me as I say this and immediately pulls out his phone to send a text to one of the boys. “I will see if they have thought of that. Maybe that’s our answer.”

I smile, happy to help for once. It’s very rare that I am able to contribute anything of worth to the hunt they are on unless they know exactly what they need, they just can’t be there physically and need me to find it. Sam calls me with requests like that a lot, knowing I can find whatever book it is he’s thinking of if he is detailed enough with his directions.

For the rest of the drive, Castiel just answers my questions about Heaven and what it’s like to be an angel. He has a lot of patience and doesn’t seem to mind carrying on that line of conversation when we enter the diner. Because we are both entirely focused on the topic, we walk right into a trap.

I’m laughing at a story he’s telling me about Gabriel, the archangel, when suddenly he disappears with a shout and a flash of bright light. I stare at the other side of the booth we’re in, very confused for a moment, before I glance up and see the sigil on the wall across from me. Dean had taught me some of them because he was concerned they may try to use me as leverage so he made sure I knew how to get rid of them without actually engaging in any fights. But it wasn’t my blood that wrote that sigil.

It was Keith’s. He sits in the booth by the wall with a shit-eating grin on his face, looking very proud of himself, for a moment. Then he gets up and starts towards me. My heart has stopped beating, or at least it feels like that, but I lurch to my feet, hoping to at least get out of the diner and save the bystanders. I can’t imagine this is going to be pretty. But as I do so, I’m blocked by a rather large body that’s doing its best to imitate a cement block standing in my way. Taking that for the message it is, I sink back down into my seat slowly, keeping an eye on my uncle as he advances on me.

“Hey, Liss,” he purrs as he sits across from me and nods at Cement Block Dude. “I’ve missed you.”

I can’t breathe. I can see and hear him, but I can’t quite wrap my head around the fact that he is sitting across from me. It’s been a year and a half. _How the fuck did he find me?_

He leans forward, grabbing one of my hands that sits on the table. “It’s been so very long, and I’m _so_ glad you were able to find a way to get away from the hunters. Have they hurt you?”

“What – hurt me? Are you – they – _what_?” I sputter. He looks confused for a moment, before he nods in understanding and pats my hand. My eyes wide, I look down at our hands and back up at him, not entirely sure what is happening here.

“They’ve had you for a long time. Let me guess, they convinced you they weren’t going to hurt you, they were your saviours, and everyone else was the bad guy? That’s what they do, they _lie_ , it’s the only thing they know how to do. That, and kill people. They killed your dad, princess, my big brother, and they killed Mark. Even if you believe killing your dad was in self defense, what about Mark?”

“What are you doing?” I ask him warily, pulling my hand back to me and putting it in my lap under the table. “You know I’m not going to fall for this, so why bother?”

He frowns. “Sweetheart, you fell for their lies, I just want you to see the truth. I know you’ve had a hard time, and I’m sorry, I really am. But I came to rescue you and finally bring you home, where you belong, with me,” he says, and I can tell he truly believes what he’s saying. He genuinely thinks he is saving me from something.

“Keith…” he raises an eyebrow at that, and I have to correct myself, “Uncle Keith, I don’t need rescuing. I’m happy here, really. I can’t go home, I can’t be where my whole family used to be, where two of them were killed. I have a really good life here, I really do.” He’s showing signs of delusion, so why not try to play along with it?

His face darkens and he all but snarls at me. _That’s why_. “No,” he growls. “This isn’t your life. You are coming back with me and that’s that. Those hunters that took you from me? They’re gonna be dead soon and then you’ll have nothing here, or anywhere else, really. All you have, always, is _me_.” His mouth closes in a tight line and he looks back to Cement Block. “Grant, time to go.” Cement Block nods and grabs me by the upper arm and pulls me out of my seat.

“No!” I shriek, clawing at his hand. They can’t possibly be doing this. Not right now and certainly not here, in the middle of a crowded diner. He ignores me and continues to pull me towards the door. That’s when I notice that it has gone completely silent in here. I stop moving and Keith signals to Grant to stop.

Every single patron in here is a werewolf or aligned with them. They are all looking to my uncle for direction and a handful of them are holding the staff hostage, likely as leverage to ensure I cooperate. But as I watch, Keith nods and the one closest to me shifts into his werewolf persona and shoves his fist into her rib cage. Her mouth opens in a silent scream and he rips her heart out, before handing it to Keith. Keith takes a bite out of it while looking me right in the eyes. My free hand comes up to cover my mouth in horror and my knees feel weak. I’m sobbing already and I know that he’s planning to kill the rest of the staff as well.

“Please,” I sob. “Please don’t do this. I understand, I’ll do what you want. I’ll come with you, just, please, please don’t hurt anyone.” Keith grins with his teeth covered in blood and it’s sickening. I double over and vomit on the ground, and he takes a step closer to me. He waits for me to finish before putting his hand in my hair and yanking my head up and back. He grips my hair tightly in his fist and holds my head so I can look him in the eye.

“I just don’t want anyone running back to the Winchesters,” he says, and that’s when each of the remaining staff members are brutally killed, by werewolves or, surprisingly, by vampires taking bites out of their throats. I choke on a scream and continue to sob, desperate to help them or change what just happened, fighting the urge to vomit again because I’d likely choke on it this time. But maybe death by choking would be preferable to whatever it is Keith has in mind.

“You didn’t have to do it like this,” I whispered. “Now they’re gonna know exactly what happened, even if the angel hadn’t been here.”

“I know,” his eyes are twinkling. “Baby, that’s half the fun.” With that he laughs and shoos Grant out the door. He drags me, kicking and screaming, to what looks like a police van. I’m pushed in the back door, where my fears are confirmed, and my hands are pulled up to be handcuffed to the roof. The handcuffs are closed as tightly as possible and when I wince, Grant grins at me.

“Enjoy the ride, princess.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 40 000 words!!!!!! Guys I have no idea how this got as long as it is and I still have a lonnnnggggg way to go (not that I have it all planned out per se but I have a general idea of things I want to include). Thank god I'm working a semi normal week this week and can actually spend a little time everyday on my writing. 
> 
> Anyways, thanks as always for reading and commenting and liking/kudosing and bookmarking!!!! It makes my day and honestly I cried a little realizing I'd gotten over 1000 hits the other day. Didn't expect that whatsoever. so yeah. thanks peeps

I spent my first few hours in the truck fighting like hell. I screamed my lungs out, making my throat hurt very quickly, and had no voice left within the first two hours. I kicked at the doors and the walls of the van, hoping to get someone’s attention that wasn’t a werewolf or a vampire and could maybe make enough of a fuss to get police or some kind of authority involved. I also tried to pull my hands out of the handcuffs. I pulled so hard and for so long that I broke the skin and by the time Keith opened the back door to check on me, my arms were soaked in my own blood.

We stop at what I assume is a mostly forgotten gas station on some backwoods highway, or else Keith wouldn’t have opened the door because he knew I would have something to say. But he clearly has a plan. Without saying a word at first, he climbs into the back and unlocks the handcuffs. He holds my wrists in his hands, turning them over to check the injuries, before he hums and let go. After climbing back out, he gestures for me to follow him. I eye him warily, not understanding. He wasn’t speaking to me at all and now he wanted to let me go?

“Uh, Keith? What, uh, what’s going on?” I ask, not budging from my seat. My voice is hoarse and cracking, evidence of my screaming, and he winces.

“Bathroom break. Let’s go, don’t have all day,” he bit out. So not letting me go then. I sigh and move out of the van. When my feet touch the ground, I wobble a little for a moment, realizing just now that I actually haven’t eaten since last night’s supper, and I have no idea what time of day it is. Keith catches my arm as I attempt to right myself and walk into the gas station. “You say a word to the kid in there and he dies, got it?” I swallow hard and aim my eyes at the ground before nodding. I rip my arm out of his grip the second he loosens it and all but run to the bathroom. I make it there and immediately burst into tears. I have no idea how to get out of this.

It takes a minute, but I realize that they never took my phone from me. I pull it out, thinking I might be saved but there’s no fucking service here. I groan inwardly, not risking a sound in case Keith’s super hearing catches it. Plan B. I type out a message to Dean and hit send, before holding down and sending it as an SMS instead of an iMessage. I wait for it to send and after failing twice, it does.

_Dean don’t text me back. Keith found me. He was at the diner and banished Castiel. I have no idea where they’re taking me but other than fighting the handcuffs I’m not hurt. I can’t ask for help because they threatened the gas station attendant, but they let me go to the bathroom alone. I’m leaving my phone here with a message to the kid to call the cops AFTER we leave. Please come find me. I’m scared._

Satisfied, I type out a different message to the kid to then screenshot and make my background. I can’t take any chances here, but I also have to be very careful. When that’s done, I actually go to the bathroom because it has been several hours, and I had a cup of coffee and a water this morning.

I hide my phone in the paper towel dispenser with a plan to get the kid to find it. With nothing left to do but hope, I unlock the door and exit. Keith, as expected, is waiting for me.

“Time to go,” he jerks his head to the door and reaches for my arm, but I pull back.

“Wait, I haven’t had anything to eat today. You kinda made me skip breakfast and I’m so hungry, please,” I beg. He narrows his eyes at me, wondering what my angle is. After a moment, he must decide that I’m being genuine because he nods and lets me check the food section. Fortunately, the gas station has a little bakery section with muffins and some fruit. I grab myself a chocolate muffin and a banana, pour myself a cup of coffee, and follow Keith up to the register.

“That everything, or did you need to pay for the gas too?” The kid, Jackson according to his nametag, could not sound more bored of his job if he tried. I actually have to suppress a giggle because it’s so obvious.

Keith shakes his head. “No, just this.” Jackson punches it all in and Keith hands him a ten-dollar bill. “Keep the change.” He looks at me to grab my stuff and get the hell out of here. I smile at Jackson.

“Thank you,” I say. He looks surprised and gives me a small smile back. “Also, the bathroom is out of paper towels, just thought I’d let you know. Have a nice day.” That’s as subtle a hint I can give with Keith next to me, and I hope to god he doesn’t catch on. When I look back at him, he’s on his phone and just gestures for me to lead the way.

He leads me back to the van, where I hesitate at the back door. Turning to Keith, I try something else. “Can I not get stuck back here again? I won’t fight anymore; I just want to eat and look out the window.” He laughs.

“Not a chance. How fucking stupid do you think I am? You’ll find some way to get a message to those hunters that stole you from me about where you are. I’m not taking that chance. You’re staying back here. But I won’t cuff you if you promise to cooperate when we get to the motel later.”

I close my eyes, disappointed. That’s probably the best I’m going to get from him at this point, so I nod. He opens the door and I climb back in, reluctantly, but with my snacks and coffee. There aren’t any seatbelts back here, just the bench and the rings for cuffs, so I sit on the ground between the little half-wall and the bench, trying to make myself both comfortable and safe if there’s an accident. Keith smirks at me and shakes his head before slamming the door shut. I wince at the sound, finally letting my situation truly sink in.

My uncle, the psychotic werewolf who orchestrated my cousin and dad’s deaths and murdered the thief, who thinks I belong to him, who ripped out my mom and baby brother’s hearts, caught up to me in Lebanon, fucking _Kansas_ and currently has me locked in the back of what I think is an old prison van. And I’m on my own.

I’m half asleep when we finally arrive at the motel and just don’t have it in me to fight. Someone else must’ve gone to book the motel rooms and get the keys because Keith opens the back-door moments after the van shuts off. My eyes are still closed and I’m stubbornly refusing to open them, as if that will make him go away. He surprises me, though. He climbs into the back of the van and, although it must be difficult, manages to lift me up and carry me out and into the motel room, laying me on a bed as gently as he can. My wrist gets pulled over my head and handcuffed to the bed frame. Well, it was nice while it lasted.

I slowly blink my eyes open, keeping up the pretense of waking up. I make eye contact with Keith who is still closing the handcuffs, but I don’t say anything. He hesitates.

“Bathroom?” When I nod, he sighs and unlocks the cuff around my wrist. Helping me stand, I head into the bathroom alone and close the door. He makes no move to follow me in, so I assume he trusts that I can’t get into too much trouble inside a motel bathroom with no window. He would be right.

I quickly pee and wash my hands, trying to avoid looking myself in the mirror. I know I’m not going to like what I see, the exhaustion, the terror likely reflected in my complexion. I splash some water onto my face and rinse out my mouth before sighing and opening the door. Keith is sitting on the other bed in the room when I do, and he stands up to meet me.

“I was going to order a pizza if you want one. You still like cheese? And Coke?” I nod again, surprised by the attention he’s showing me. He pulls out his cell phone and spends a few minutes on it, while I move back to the bed he’d cuffed me on. I sit near the end of it and pull my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them, staring at the TV on the wall. When Keith puts a hand on my shoulder, I jump, having momentarily spaced out. “Can I trust you?”

I look up at him, not sure what he means at first. He’s not looking at me, but at the handcuffs still attached to the headboard. Sighing, I nod. “Yeah,” I say softly. “Not like I’d get very far anyways. Y’all are fucking werewolves and I don’t even think I could run a mile if I tried.” With that, I lean my head forward again until my forehead is touching the tops of my knees, finishing my evolution into a ball of fear.

Keith sighs heavily and sinks onto the bed next to me. I tense, not sure what he’s doing, but he just keeps his hand on my shoulder. “I never wanted to do it like this, Liss. This was never the plan. The hunters forced my hand, and now…now, you can’t even look at me. I’m not going to hurt you, sweetheart, I promise you that.”

I can feel the tears rolling down my cheeks before I realize I’m reacting to his words, so I lift my head to look him in the eyes. “They forced nothing,” I whisper. “You chose to kill Turner long before the hunters even knew you existed. That was your first mistake, and it’s completely yours.”

He runs a hand down his face. “You’re right,” he concedes. “But how was I supposed to let him live when I knew what he did to you and your friend and I knew how to find him? It wasn’t like I could call the police and tell them I could sniff out the criminal. What would you have done?”

“Brought him to the police? All you had to do was find him. You could even have found him and then made an anonymous phone call to them. At no point was torture and murder required. And I know this won’t make a difference, but I was just as fucked up over Turner’s death as I was Marie’s. It was too much for me to handle and my therapist thinks I actually disassociated from it because there was too much trauma happening at once.”

“Liss…”

I shake my head and look back at the TV. “Don’t. It’s over, you did it, and now five more people are dead, none of whom should have been, and all because of one decision _you_ made. So honestly, Keith, whether you wanted it this way or not…you kinda made your bed. And now you’ve tied me down to it as though that will change anything.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. When I glance back at him, something dark has come over him. There’s a knock at the door, probably the pizza, and he gets up without another word. He opens the door and barely says a word to the poor kid, who really is only a kid, and slams the door in his face as soon as he’s paid. The pizzas are dropped onto the table while Keith continues to stand by the door with his back to me. He takes a deep breath and puts his hand back on the doorknob. “I’m going outside. I can see the door, I can hear you move, don’t fucking leave this room or try anything. Eat the fucking pizza and go to sleep. You already know you’d lose if you tried to get away anyways.” With that, he opens the door and leaves, slamming it shut once more.

He comes back several hours later, after I’ve eaten half a pizza and drank an entire two litre of Coke, taken a shower, blow dried my hair, watched a few episodes of _Dr. Sexy, M.D._ , and gone to sleep. I stir when he closes the door to the bathroom and turns on the light, but do my best to appear asleep. I’m sleeping without the handcuffs and I don’t want him to find me awake and change that. There’s not much point anyways – I know I’m stuck here.

When he exits the bathroom and turns off the light, he stands in the open door for a long time. So long that I begin to wonder if he’s waiting for me to do something, like wake up. Instead, he eventually crawls into the bed I’m sleeping in and lays down on the other side. I’m curled up on my right side facing away from him, but I panic internally over him sleeping in the same bed as me. He untucks the covers and wiggles into the bed like a child, and it’s not much later I hear him snoring.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I relax again and try to fall back asleep. Who knows when I’ll be in a real bed again – might as well take advantage while I can.


	18. Chapter 18

_Hey Castiel, it’s Melissa. I don’t know if you can hear this, but if you can, I’m so sorry for what Keith did to you. Dean told me that sign was for banishing? I’m not sure where you go when that happens, but it doesn’t sound like it’s a lot of fun for you. Anyways, I was hoping you could figure out where I am if I pray to you. I know you put the thing on my ribs and all, but I thought maybe this way you could still find me. I’m in the back of a moving white van by myself so now would be a really great time to come get me if you’re able. Also, could you tell the boys I’m okay? I’m sure they’re freaking out a little bit, especially if Dean got my message. If not, tell Sam to track my phone. I left it in a bathroom in some nowhere gas station in the paper towel dispenser, hoping the attendant would get the message. I don’t know. The police never came so I don’t think it worked. Or maybe they were too slow. But I’m really scared, Cas. And you’re an angel and angels help people and I just really hope you can get me out of here before my uncle does something he regrets. Tell the boys I love them and thank you, just in case_.

Late on the second day, we arrive at the destination. I have no idea where we are. This doesn’t look like the home base for a huge werewolf pack like Sam and Dean were talking about and scoping out. In fact, it’s just a simple house on an acreage in the middle of nowhere. It’s…like home. My parent’s home.

The thought saddens me for a moment but when the back door opens, all thought stops. Keith grins at me from where he stands, Grant and Cement Block #2 behind him. “C’mon, Liss. I wanna show you the place,” he says.

I climb out of the van carefully, keeping my eyes on the three men in case of movement. When Grant reaches out to grab my arm, I whip it back fast, not letting anyone touch me. He narrows his eyes at me and takes a step closer to me, crowding me against the van. His teeth come out, his _vampire_ teeth, and he steps even closer. I whimper and try to duck and get away, but Keith stops us both.

“Melissa, I don’t want to have to fight you to get you inside. Grant isn’t going to hurt you, unless you provoke him. Let’s just go inside.” He looks exhausted, frustrated with me and irritated with his men. It must be tiring planning an elaborate kidnapping and organizing a supernatural army of werewolves and vampires and god knows what else. I’d almost feel bad for him, if I wasn’t the victim of both of those. Grant grabs my arm roughly and leads me inside, pulling me along at his speed. Once inside the front hallway, he stops. I can hear Keith behind us, and I turn to see him when the door shuts. There are several locks on it, but each one has a key and lock from the inside. Keith makes sure he has my attention when he locks each one with keys he has on his keyring. At the end, he punches in a code I can’t see.

“Worried about the neighbour kids?” I sneer, trying to hide the terror those locks inspired in me. There’s no way I can get out that door without the keys, and there’s no way Keith lets me anywhere near those keys.

He smirks back at me. “Not even a little bit.” With that, he moves ahead of us into the kitchen. The house itself is small, but cozy. The kitchen has up to date appliances and an island with stools to eat at. There isn’t room for a kitchen table but that’s what the island is for, I suppose. Just past the kitchen is the living room. It has a large sectional covering half the room, with a large flat screen TV on the opposite wall. There’s also a small shelf with various board games. Off the living room are three doors to what I assume are bedrooms and bathrooms.

Grant doesn’t let me take much of it in before he’s pulling me through one of the doors. Inside what must be the master bedroom is a king bed, a large walk-in closet, another TV on top of a tall dresser, a large bookshelf filled with various fiction titles I recognize from my house and the libraries I frequented, and another door. The door is open slightly so I can see that it’s a bathroom with a large bathtub, shower, and double sink.

I sit on the bed when I’m pushed towards it and Grant kneels in front of me. I frown and start to move backwards on the bed to get away from him when his hands produce a silver cuff attached to a very long chain, the origins of which I cannot see. He opens the cuff and I panic. I kick at him and push myself off the bed to run…into the bathroom, which is a dead end, of course. I slam the door closed and lock it, hoping that will keep him out for now. Instead, I hear the bedroom door shut and the sounds of deadbolts locking. _Holy shit, I’m locked in this room_.

I can feel the panic attack coming on, but I have no way to stop it. Before I can even get to the bed to lay down, I black out and collapse onto the floor.

_Hey Cas, me again. I’m in some creepy fucking house in the middle of nowhere. I might have had a panic attack earlier when they tried to lock me down and in and blacked out, and when I woke up, there was a cuff on my ankle attached to a chain that goes under the bed. It’s very long, goes all the way to the farthest corner of the bathroom, but that’s where it stops. Very well thought out. But I need to get out of here. Please. Please come find me. The room I’m in has a king-sized bed and I can’t imagine that’s for my comfort. I woke up alone today and I’m really scared that there’s going to be a day when I wake up with someone in the bed. And that that someone will be my uncle. I just really want to come back home to the Batcave. I’ve only been gone a few days (I think – I have no idea how long I was unconscious for), but I miss it and I miss you and Sam, and I really miss Dean. I could really use his overprotectiveness right about now. And a gun. With silver bullets. That would also be nice. Even a knife, one I could tuck under my pillow. That could be handy. Anyways, please come get me out of here. I love you all._

I’m lying in bed one morning when I hear a knock at the door. Frowning, I sit up and stare at the door for a moment, because no one ever knocks. Keith barges in whenever he feels like it and anyone else has a key and aren’t quiet about using it. “Come in,” I call softly, curious about who’s on the other side.

It’s Keith. He’s holding a bouquet of beautiful and vibrant flowers that he sets on the bedside table closest to me, giving me a bright smile. “It’s a beautiful day out today. Do you want to go out for a walk?” My eyes go wide. He hasn’t let me out of this room in a week and only unlocks my cuff when I want to take a shower or a bath. I nod enthusiastically and hold out my ankle. He chuckles. “Promise you won’t try to run?” I nod again. “Okay, then the cuff can come off and if you behave, it can stay off when you’re in here.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, internally horrified that I have to thank my uncle for something like not putting a cuff around my ankle that keeps me chained to a particular room. When it’s finally off, he holds out his hand for me to take and, trying not to make a face, I do so. He leads me to the front door, where I find a pair of sandals waiting for me. I peel off the socks I’ve been wearing for two days and slip on the sandals before reaching for the front door. Keith clears his throat behind me. “Oh, right.”

“Nice try, kid,” he says, pulling out his keys for the various locks on the door. I shrug.

“I forgot; I did only see this door the once. Plus, I really can’t wait to go outside. I get no sunlight in that room.” He takes my hand once more and we walk down the front steps. I haven’t had the chance to really take the yard in while it’s bright and sunny, so I pause for a minute to do that. It’s beautiful, a wild meadow surrounding most of the yard, wildflowers growing without limit and even the odd sunflower peeks out. The yard itself has a few apple trees and a line of bushes covered in these beautiful purple flowers on both sides of the driveway, concealing the yard from anyone driving by. It’s peaceful. Or, it would be, if I were with anyone else in any other situation.

Keith pulls on my hand a little bit and we walk towards the back corner of the yard hand in hand. It’s a little uncomfortable but it’s a small price to pay for the fresh air I’m getting. Right as I’m thinking that, Keith decides to up his request.

“I’ve been thinking about you and I and what I’m supposed to do now. I really don’t want to turn you yet, you’re much too young for that, but I can’t risk you leaving. The ankle cuff is a temporary solution, but I really don’t want to do that to you long term. I wouldn’t do it at all, but I don’t believe you wouldn’t take advantage of any opportunity you could find to leave, which hurts and scares me a little bit. I don’t know what I would do if you got hurt out there and I couldn’t protect you,” he says, seemingly talking to himself instead of to me.

“But it’s okay if you do the hurting?” I ask gently, not wanting to make him mad, but genuinely curious as to how he justifies what he has done to me. He starts and looks down at me, almost as if he’s surprised that I’m there. He comes to a stop and turns his whole body to face me, putting his hands on my shoulders.

“I would never hurt you, princess, never. I need you to believe that,” he says.

I frown, very confused. “Do…do you not remember hurting me? I had to get over a hundred stitches because of you. Also, could probably do with years and years of intensive therapy at this point.”

He huffs, face starting to darken. “You did that to yourself. I told you not to fight me and you did. What was I supposed to do?” I try to pull away from him and take a step back. Surprisingly, he lets me. I swallow.

“Not that. Keith, you’ve been the star of my nightmares for almost two _years_ now because you hurt me, and you hurt people I love. You…” I trail off, not sure I should finish my thought, but he steps closer to me again and lifts my chin up.

“I, what?” he snarls.

“You killed people,” I hiss back at him. “Innocent people, a child! How am I supposed to trust that you won’t hurt me when you seem perfectly capable of murdering innocent children?”

His mouth curls into a horrific smile as he lets go of my chin. “That, that was a lesson. I told you what would happen and if there’s one thing I want you to remember, it’s that I’m a man of my word. You knew the consequences of leaving and yet you still left. Their blood is on _your_ hands,” he snaps. “Not mine. And by the way, you call me Keith one more time, you won’t like the consequences of that either.”

I flinch. “I thought you said you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Oh, I won’t hurt you. But it’s very easy to forget to feed you for a few days or lock the cuff a little too tight for blood flow, or any number of things. I’m sure you get the picture. Remember, Liss, you belong to me. I don’t want to hurt you, but I can and will do whatever the fuck I want to do to you. If it ever happens that I have to hurt you, it will be no one’s fault but your own.”

_Cas, can you hear me? I’ve been praying to you every night and if I’m counting my days correctly, it’s been six weeks. I’m so tired. I can’t do this anymore; he’s never going to let me go and he thinks that not chaining me up is a reward. He hasn’t made any comments in a while, but I know he’s still thinking of me as a belonging, a toy, and when he first came to me at my house, it almost sounded like he wanted to fuck me. I thought I was crazy at the time, but now? Now, I’m kind of just waiting for it. Also, I overheard Keith talking to some of his people the other night and it sounds like they’re all gearing up to fight the Darkness because it’s coming for them too? I don’t really know what they mean but he wants to up their recruitment efforts. He has vampires and werewolves working for him, so maybe tell the boys to keep an eye out for mass turnings or killings reminiscent of those things and then maybe they’ll find me. I hope you’re all okay and you just can’t get to me for some reason. I miss you._

On the forty-ninth day, Keith enters the room with a small, dark shopping bag and a shit-eating grin. He nudges me to wake up and locks the door behind him. When he puts the bag down on the bed beside me, I can see a bottle of lube sticking out, some condoms, and some packaged items. I can’t see the images on them, but I can’t imagine I’m going to enjoy it.

I look up at Keith. The smile on his face is nothing short of bone-chilling, something that’s going to haunt my nightmares for years to come.

“So, princess, there’s two ways we can do this. One, I take your virginity like a gentleman, gentle, soft, and sweet. Or two, you fight me, and I still take your virginity, but I take it by force and use the special restraints I bought for the occasion to hold you down. Which would you prefer?”

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so I've never written a sex scene and I'm not actually sure I want to write this one, so it may be a while until the next chapter comes while I decide how I'm gonna do this.
> 
> Anyways, thanks as always for the comments and likes!!!!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo this isn't my favourite thing that I've written but I've had a really bad, long week topped off by an asthma attack that made me leave work early. SO. not the best chapter it is.
> 
> I will try to step it up for the next one. Anyways, lemme know how you feel!!!

_Hey Cas, quick question. What is the best way to tell your sociopathic, werewolf, niece-kidnapping uncle that he is, in fact,_ not _going to be the person to take your virginity should he mention it with not-so-thinly veiled threats involved? I mean, I probably shouldn’t tell him, I think, but I also don’t know if he’d be able to tell. Isn’t there blood or something involved? Do me a favour and ask Dean. I wasn’t really paying attention to that part. I also kind of hope he’ll find out about Dean and be disgusted and not want to have sex with me after that. Not sure yet what his limit is. To be continued. Also, very sorry, but I have no one to talk to and I like to pretend you can actually hear me._

I shift slightly on the bed, tearing my eyes away from his face, my own face going beet red. He tilts his head a little and narrows his eyes. “What?” he barks. “Spit it out, Liss.”

I bite my bottom lip hard for a moment, trying to think of how best to word this. “Um, I uh, I’m not…”

“What?” he snaps. “You’re not _what_?”

“A virgin,” I whisper, so quiet I almost can’t hear it, but unlucky for me, the werewolf with dog-like hearing sure can.

He slaps me so hard and so fast I almost miss it completely, blinded by the pain and the blood that starts to flow down my cheek. I fell to the mattress when he hit me, and blood is dripping onto the comforter while I just lie there for a moment.

“I must be hearing you wrong. Are you saying that not only did you disobey me and _leave your house_ to go live with fucking hunters and disgrace the family name, but you _slept_ with one of them?” He spins around, running his hands through his hair, before he punches the wall. I flinch backwards when I see the hole he’s made in the drywall. Pushing myself up, I get off the bed to stand, hoping to reason with him in a less vulnerable position.

“I –”

He growls, turning back to me. “Not another word, you goddamn _whore_. Did I _say_ you could go running around, opening your legs for anyone who wanted to get in there? No, I fucking didn’t, because you belong to me and _I don’t share_.” He stalks around the bed and walks me back into a corner, leering at me. “So, who was it? Which hunter gets to go around bragging that he defiled Keith Wallace’s niece? Which hunter do I now get to hunt down and tear limb from limb for daring to even _look_ at you? I don’t care what I have to do, I’ll get it tattooed on your fucking forehead if I have to.” He reaches out and grabs my throat, not tight enough to choke me out, but enough to get my attention. Shoving me against the wall, he crowds into my space. “ _You belong to me_. I don’t know how many times I have to say it before you hear me, but that’s the truth of it all, baby. And when I’m done with you, you’ll never forget that. So, _who the fuck_ was the _hunter_ who touched you?” he spits out.

His hand seems to get tighter and instinctively, my hands come up to pull at his, trying to breathe. He growls and grabs both of my hands in his free one and slams them against the wall above my head. My heart is racing, and I genuinely think I could probably give myself an aneurysm right about now with all the stress coursing through my veins.

I can’t tell him it was Dean. I can’t put Dean in that kind of danger, and I have no idea how many people Keith has turned or how many are loyal to him. That’s too much of a risk. But it’s not like I know any other hunters. If I just make up a name, will he really hunt them down? Who am I kidding, of course he will. The vein that’s popping out of his forehead could have told me that. Trying to buy myself some time, I fight him as much as I can while incapacitated like I am. He simply presses himself closer to me and tightens his hands. “ _Who. Was. It_?”

Tears are falling now, and it stings when they go through the cut on my cheek. I got nothing. No backup. No lie, no story.

“I don’t…”

“If you tell me you don’t know, I’m going to kill everyone you’ve ever _looked_ at. I will track them all down,” he says low, dangerous, and it’s that tone that scares me the most.

Taking in a deep breath and swallowing hard, I finally croak out a name. “Dean. Winchester. Dean Winchester.”

Keith lets go of me abruptly, letting me fall to the floor, and takes a step back, smirking. “That was much easier than I thought it would be. You break easy, sweetheart.”

I glare up at him, seething. “You bastard, if you hurt him…” He crouches down in front of me.

“What? What could you possibly do to me? I hold all the cards. You’re nothing. You have nothing. Your entire life now is these four walls, and me. So, I’m going to destroy Dean Winchester, but not today. Today, I want to teach you who you belong to now, teach you why it wasn’t a good idea to sleep with someone else like the slut you are, and show you what your world is now. And then, when I think I’ve claimed you properly, then I will go find him. See, the thing about werewolves is we keep a scent. So do vampires. And I’m willing to bet I could find something of his or someone who’s met him and get his scent quite easily. In fact, I know of a werewolf who’s _friends_ with him. And when Dean Winchester dies, you’ll have a front row seat. I find I get through to you best that way, and it’s the best reminder that everything you’ve ever had or loved is gone, and you’re at the centre of it all. Everything and everyone you touch is doomed, princess. Because you have always been mine first.” With that, he pulls me up and throws me onto the bed.

_Castiel, I…I really need your help right about now. He…well, he followed through on his plans. A while ago now, and it’s become an incredibly frequent occurrence. So much so that there are days he won’t take me out of the restraints he got for me, not wanting to have to fight me when he comes back the next time. I’ve lost count. Of days, of how many times he’s come and…yeah. He’s furious about what happened with Dean. He wants to come after him. I think he wants to use Garth to do it, so if you can hear me, warn him, please. I can’t…can’t have any more blood on my hands. And that’s exactly where the blood would belong. I miss you guys and the Batcave so fucking much. But I think…no, I know I won’t get to see it again. I’m either going to die here or he’s going to turn me, and I won’t be able to get in and you’ll have to kill me eventually. If he does turn me, kill me quickly. I don’t want to hurt anyone. It’s better if I hurt. So, if I just keep reminding him of what I did, maybe he’ll stay here and forget about Dean. He can beat me to death for all I care, as long as Dean is safe. And frankly, I think death is going to be my best friend one of these days. I definitely don’t dread it anymore, that’s for sure. But, that’s a little dark. Please find me soon._

“Good morning, princess.”

I know Keith is standing over the bed, waiting for me to wake up and react, but I just can’t anymore. It’s been just over a week since he first raped me, and I feel like I’ve become a shell of a person.

“I know you’re awake, I can hear your heartbeat. Up and at ‘em, kid. We have things to discuss.”

I roll over, away from the voice. “You did a lot of talking the other day, I’m not sure there’s much left you haven’t said to me.” A hand grabs my shoulder and roughly pulls me back towards him. I open my eyes to see him glaring down at me, his expression murderous.

“You don’t turn your back on me. You belong to me, remember? Now, get the fuck out of bed and let’s go,” he hisses. I swallow hard and nod, shifting so I can stand up. He takes out the key for the ankle cuff and unlocks it. There is a pile of clothes on the dresser that he points to. “Put those on.” No room for argument. When I pick them up, it’s a low-cut tank top, a tight, black mini skirt, and a lacy thong. No bra, no sweater, just a very revealing outfit I would never have picked out for myself, but still I put it on. He grabs me by my forearm and takes me out to the front door, where I slip on a pair of sandals before we head outside.

“Where are we going?” I ask quietly.

He ignores me, just continues to walk towards the front gate. When we get there, he stops and points to the fenceposts. “See those carvings?” I lean forwards, trying to get a better look at them. It takes a minute, but I recognize them as sigils preventing angels from seeing or finding a place. My shoulders drop. “So, Dean taught you some sigils, I guess. Well, he has to be good for _something_ ,” he sneers. I don’t respond, looking at the ground. “I know you’ve been praying and holding out hope that they’re going to come rescue you, but I want to nip that in the bud. No one is coming. No one gives a shit about you anymore but me. And even if they could spare a thought for you, they can’t find you. But they’re too busy with the Darkness to even remember your name.”

The words are like poison, but I can’t help believing them. I knew the Darkness was going to cause problems, just like I was, and I knew there was a reason no one had come for me. I don’t, can’t believe that they don’t care about me, but I do know they aren’t coming. I don’t say anything back to him, but he sees the change in my face.

He puts a finger under my chin and tilts my face up to look at him. I clench my jaw, trying my best not to react or show the fear that’s coursing through me right now. “This is what’s going to happen now. I’m going to claim you as mine and you’ll meet who you need to meet to ensure everyone knows who you belong to. You’re going to submit to me and stop fighting me every step of the way. I’m sick of it, and you’re not going to gain anything from it anyways. We’ll go back to how it used to be, when I was your favourite person and you were mine.”

I cough hard to cover a bitter laugh that bursts out of me, but not hard enough to hide it completely. His eyes narrow. “You were my favourite _uncle_. This doesn’t qualify as a healthy uncle-niece relationship at this point. And, if we’re setting boundaries and goals here, let me make one thing _very_ clear,” I snap, my eyes burning with angry tears and betrayal. “I do not, have not, and will _never_ belong to you or submit to you. Not only is it fucking disgusting, but I’m not going to give up who I am as a person to satisfy the sociopath I used to think was a good person. I really did think you loved me at one time, but you perverted that and turned it into something sick and horrifying. So, you can do whatever the fuck you want to me because I know you’re going to anyways, but in my mind, you hold no claim or ownership over me. Not now, _not ever_.”

I know the slap is coming before it actually gets to me. It’s the punch that shocks me. For the first time since he abducted me, Keith beats me nearly to death out in the yard. When part of his army shows up, the vampires are a little too excited to watch the show and I can tell they’re barely holding back from attacking me themselves. When I can only see out of one eye, can barely breath, and can’t pick myself up off the ground, Keith finally steps back. He stares at my crumpled form on the green grass and smirks down at me. He shifts into his werewolf form and crouches down next to me. I do my best to shift back, not knowing what more he wants to do to me that he couldn’t have done while human, but he grabs me by the shoulder he dislocated an hour ago.

Leaning in to whisper in my ear, he tightens his grip. “After this, you will never again forget. And baby, this is a lesson I will teach over and over until you get it.” With that he takes his claws and cuts the straps of my top. He pulls it down enough to show off the skin below my collarbone and starts to carve into me. I let out a scream I didn’t think I had in me anymore and pass out before he can finish.

When I wake up, I’m naked in my bed, cuff around my ankle, in more pain than I’ve ever been in my life, and wrapped in more bandages than a mummy. It takes me an hour to sit up and move to the bathroom and my stomach churns when I see myself in the full-body mirror.

My face is covered in bruises and cuts, my nose clearly broken, my lip split, several deep cuts on my cheeks and chin, a gash along my forehead, and my left eye is swollen shut. There is a handprint on my throat shown in bright purple bruises. My right arm is in a sling, the shoulder swollen and bruised, and the wrist broken. Ignoring my chest for the time being, I look down my body to the bandages wrapped around what are likely broken ribs and the fingerprints on my hips. He must’ve decided unconscious me would make a better sex partner than conscious me. There’s a little trail of blood down the inside of my left leg coming from my vagina which can’t be a good sign. My left knee is purple and swollen to twice its size and is sore to the touch. There are small cuts and bruises all over my body besides that, but it seems as though that may be it for major injuries.

But on my chest, Keith took the liberty of carving into me, branding me. It’s crudely done since he used his claws, but still legible. It sits just below my collarbones, making sure people will be able to see it unless I dress incredibly modestly for the rest of my life, assuming I ever get out of here. It sends me and everyone who sees it a very clear message.

**Keith’s Whore**.

_Hey Cas, just thought I’d send you a prayer. It’s been a while, but ever since Keith showed me the sigils, I figured there wasn’t much point. I know you aren’t coming. Besides, the Darkness is more important. I’d hate to know you were wasting time on me when you could be saving the world. Also, if you are getting these, please let the boys know I’m still alive. Not sure how long that’ll be true, but it is for today._

I don’t know how many days it’s been anymore. I lost track at sixty, knowing that by now, they would’ve found me if they were able to, wanted to, or going to. Or alive, but I refuse to believe any of the three of them are dead.

Keith has been using the time outside of the bed to mock me, make sure I know my place in his world. Now that he knows I was never going to belong to him if I could help it, he’s dropped all pretense of caring about my feelings and well-being. The cuff hasn’t come off in weeks. I don’t leave the room and I’m not allowed clothes. It’s his way of continually degrading me, reminding me I am nothing more than a toy, a possession for him to use.

When he’s lying in bed with me, he also likes to trace his fingers over the words he carved into me. I flinch each time, thinking he might want to redo them, since he’s been overly cruel lately, but he just caresses them like one would a lover. I suppose in his mind, I am his lover, if you ignore the consensual part of lover.

The house has been busy lately, though, which means he’s had less time for me and I’m certainly not complaining. It sounds like they’re getting more concerned about the Darkness taking over and there’s a coalition of various monsters getting together to either launch an attack or go deep underground to try to survive.

I really hope they just forget about me when they do that.


	20. Chapter 20

Keith is having a party. I can hear the laughter in the living room. He made mention of it a few days ago in his afterglow, but it isn’t very often that I pay his ramblings much attention anymore. They could be celebrating a nuclear war and I wouldn’t pay it any of my attention. My entire world has been relegated to this one room.

It does sound like they’re planning a battle and, finally having completed their plans and strategies, are having a last night on earth style evening. I lay in bed, unable to move or do more than breathe, staring at the ceiling. It’s been a long time since I felt capable of more than breathing.

When the party ends and Keith comes into my room, I can feel the arousal bleeding off of him. He’s drunk, which means I’m going to be very sore tomorrow. He is also very chatty when drunk, and though I don’t respond to anything he says, it’s hard to listen to sometimes. Sometimes he brags about how he managed to outthink and overpower an angel so he could have me, how he murdered my mom and brother to get to me, how he was the only one who was capable of protecting me as shown by his murder of Turner, how he loves me and he’s showing me that by keeping me safe.

“Princess, where ya been?” He slurs from the doorway. “We’ve been havin’ a party, you shoulda come on out. Boys would love to get their hands on you, sweetheart.” I roll my head to the side to look at him.

“Thought you didn’t share,” my voice is crackly and dry thanks to misuse, but he hears me.

“Baby, we’re all gonna die tomorrow anyways, what’s it matter if a few other men have a go at ya?” His words send shivers through my body, sparking a fear I haven’t felt in months.

“What?” I whisper, not sure what he’s talking about. He grins and saunters over to the bed, bottle of whisky in hand. He sits down right next to me and brings his free hand up to gently stroke my face.

His words are soft, almost as though he cares. “Don’t worry, Liss. I won’t let anything happen to you. We’re gonna go fight the Darkness, she’s been making trouble for lotsa things lately; even the demons and angels are nervous. But she’s one of ‘em, an angel of sorts we think, so we’re gonna take our shot. And we have a damn good shot. I’ll come back to you, don’t you worry about me.”

I almost laugh at that. But he’s leaning down to kiss me and I have to compose myself, so I don’t panic or do something stupid like push him away. He’s shown me many times exactly how he feels about being pushed away. It’s violent and painful, like most things Keith does, but it’s also preventable if I stay calm.

When it’s over, he cuddles up to me as the big spoon and nuzzles the back of my neck. “I love you, Liss. I don’t say it enough, but I do. I’m fighting this war for you, for us. It’s killing me every day knowing there is something out there that could hurt you and I can’t protect you from it unless I take it out. And that’s the plan.”

“What happens if you don’t,” I ask quietly. He hums questioningly, still pressed tightly against my back. “What if you can’t take it out? What if you don’t come back? What happens to me?”

Keith stills. After a moment, he pulls me onto my back, so I have to look at him and there is fire in his expression. “You stay right here, princess. There isn’t anything on earth that will keep me from coming back to you. I’ll be fine, I’ll always come back for you.”

And that’s exactly the problem.

_Hey, Cas. Keith is going out to fight the Darkness tomorrow and leaving me here to rot. I kinda doubt he’s going to survive which I think means I’m going to be dead soon too. No one knows where the house is or that I’m here and he keeps the room locked up pretty tight. And if he’s not back in a couple of days, I might just do it myself. No point in suffering for weeks while I waste away when I can take the pain away for good much quicker than that, right? Tell the boys I love them, and they did the best they could. Thank you for everything._

For the first time in weeks (months? I don’t know anymore), when the door opens, I don’t see Keith’s face. Instead, it’s the face of a man I don’t recognize at all. He smirks and slips into the room, locking the door behind him and then sliding the dresser over to block the door. He’s not taking any chances of someone having a key, I guess.

I sit up in bed, covered in a blanket, pulling it up with me. Keeping my eyes on the stranger, I curl up protectively. “Who the fuck are you?”

He tsks. “Ya know, I’d heard you had a mouth on ya, but that came outta nowhere. I ain’t even introduced myself yet. No need to be so rude.”

I frown at him. “You just broke into my locked room and then blocked off the exit with a dresser. That’s not screaming nice to me. Also, not in a very nice mood these days, as I’m sure you can understand.” I let the blanket fall a little, showing off the words on my chest to emphasize my point.

“Ah, yes,” he says, “the claim. Well, sweetheart, that claim is no more, I’m afraid. Your dear uncle went out to fight the Darkness and, well,” he pauses, smiling widely, “he didn’t come back.”

My eyes widen. _Keith’s dead? And I wasn’t the one to do it?_ “What…he wouldn’t…I don’t understand. He’s…dead?” Nothing makes sense to me right now. I knew it would be dangerous and I knew he was going to fight, but I honestly wasn’t sure he’d even find it, let alone fight it.

“Don’t cry, baby, I’m here to help. I’mma get you outta here and into some clothes, whaddya think?” He’s still giving off the wrong vibe. Something is wrong here and it’s more than the obvious.

“Did you see it kill him?” I ask, narrowing my eyes. “How do you know he’s dead? Did you see a body?” He huffs, throwing a pile of clothes at me and moving towards the bed. He reaches for my ankle before I can pull it back and he breaks off the cuff. “What the fuck! How…who…what are you?”

The creature smiles. “Now you’re askin’ the right questions, darlin’. But I ain’t in an answering mood. So how about you get those clothes on and we get the hell outta dodge, huh?”

Still suspicious, I take this for the brief reprieve that it is and scramble into the bathroom. Slamming the door shut behind me, I quickly pull on the clothes and glance into the mirror. My face is pale and my nose crooked, my skin pulled a little tight due to the weight loss I’ve experienced while here, and my hair is greasy. I shake my head at myself. Now is not the time. I grab a ponytail off the counter and throw my hair into a messy bun to keep it out of my face.

I swing the bathroom door open to find the room completely empty. Taking a step into the room slowly, my eyes are shooting everywhere, trying to figure out where the man went. The dresser is still shoved against the door, which means he had to have just disappeared. So that only leaves two options: demon or angel.

“Cas?” I whisper. Did he get a new vessel while I’ve been here? Why would he be acting so weird, then?

I hear a laugh behind me and spin around. The man is leaning against the shower door with a smirk on his face. “You’re funny, girl. I’m no feather,” he laughs as his eyes flash black. I jump backwards and try to pull the bathroom door shut, already thinking of ways to defend myself. Keith left me almost entirely defenseless in here, but there has to be _something_.

He reappears in front of me, causing me to scream and fall backwards against the door. “What do you want with me?”

It smirks and the eyes go black again as he reaches for me. “Guess you’re about to find out, sweetheart.” And just like that, we’re not in Keith’s house anymore. The sudden teleportation causes my stomach to flip and I lurch over when we land, vomiting all over the demon’s shoes. It groans, muttering about human girls and their weak constitutions while I try to get my breath back.

Straightening up, I look around me. We are standing in the middle of what looks to be a forest. I glance up at the demon, wondering what the game is here. He’s looking everywhere but me, seeming as though he’s looking for something. “What’s going on? Where are we?”

The demon looks down at me for a moment, a look of frustration flashing across his face, before looking away again. He continues to mutter under his breath about something. When a stick snaps behind us, we both whip around in surprise. Castiel stands there with a look of impatience on his face.

“Cas?” I whisper, not sure I’m actually seeing him, thinking perhaps I’ve finally lost my mind. He tilts his head the way he does when he’s confused, before glancing at the demon and narrowing his eyes. The demon seems to take that as his cue and leans in to whisper to me before departing.

“See you soon, darlin’.” I can’t tear my eyes away from Castiel.

“Cas?” I repeat, not sure what else to say. When he takes a step forward, I flinch backwards, a reflex I’ve picked up over the last few months. His eyes narrow again, and he shakes his head before stepping forwards again, this time with more purpose. He reaches me in three paces, puts two fingers on my forehead, and everything goes black.

I wake up to a pair of very familiar green eyes, eyes I have dreamt about every night for months now, but haven’t seen in person in ages. I shriek and crawl backwards, not quite sure what’s bringing on this hallucination but not wanting to find out. When I hit the wall and finally start to take in more of my surroundings, I realize I’m in my room in the Batcave. My eyes dart around the room a few times before finally resting on Dean, who looks just as panicked and worried as I feel right now. He looks exhausted, dark bags under his eyes, but when I meet his stare with my own, he smiles a little and that makes all the difference.

“Dean?” I ask, feeling a sense of déjà vu, and he nods. I lunge forwards to him and wrap my arms tightly around his neck before I dissolve into tears, happy that I’m back home with him, but so scared and so broken and not really sure this is actually happening. I sob on his shoulder for what seems like hours before I pull back enough to see his face and notice he’s crying too. I bring my hand up to cup his cheek and rub away some of the tears, and he closes his eyes, leaning into my touch.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, and I flinch at the term of endearment. It brings back echoes of Keith calling me the same thing and suddenly I can’t breathe. The room gets dark and the walls are closing in on me and Dean is suddenly standing up and backing away from me and someone is yelling and someone is crying and Keith is laughing he’s here he’s going to kill me he’s laughing where am I what is happening why can’t I breathe…

“Melissa! Melissa, hey, c’mon, breathe, just take one breath, in…out…c’mon, that’s it, Mel.” A familiar but unseen voice starts reaching me in my haze and I try to calm down enough to see who it is. When I can finally take a breath in, I turn to see Sam sitting next to me on the bed, one hand on my back, the other on my chest, trying to ground me. “Hey, Melissa,” he smiles at me when he sees the change in my expression. “Welcome home.”

I look around frantically again, this time trying to find Dean. Did he leave? Did I freak him out too much? He’s not going to want me now that I’m broken and damaged…I look down and see that someone changed my clothes. My face falls and I can feel the blood leave it. I look up at Sam, feeling the tremors.

“My clothes…who…who changed me?” I ask shakily. He frowns, his eyebrows coming together.

“Cas did, he brought you in here and then changed your clothes without having to touch you. We thought it would be better in case you woke up.” I sigh, relieved. So, the cat isn’t out of the bag yet.

“Where’s Dean?”

Sam gives me a sad smile. “He, uh, he went to get you some water. You really scared him just now, kid. I didn’t know who to worry about more when I got here, you or him. He’s been beating himself up for months now. I’m glad you’re home.” He pulls me in slowly to give me a hug, giving me lots of time to pull back or tell him to stop, but I don’t. I relish the human contact that isn’t malicious or designed to harm me or done while planning to destroy my entire life. None of the touching that occurred at Keith’s was kind or welcome, but this is. I lean into him and hold him back, never wanting to let go. That is, until I hear footsteps in the hallway and look up to see Dean standing there.

He smiles to see Sam and I holding each other. “Sammy, can I…” Sam pulls back from me with a nod and a smile, kissing me on the forehead before he stands up and leaves the room. Dean takes his place and hands me the water. I take it eagerly, just now realizing how thirsty I am, not knowing how long it’s been since I last had any. Dean’s hand comes up to stroke my hair like he used to, but he freezes. He makes eye contact with me, silently asking if it’s okay, and I nod, needing to feel his touch again. I down the entire glass of water before falling into him, relishing the contact. “I’m sorry, Melissa, I’m so fucking sorry,” he says, voice thick with tears.

I swallow hard, turning my face into his chest. I don’t say anything. His hand continues to play with my hair, soothing us both. Even when we shift to lie down together, his hand doesn’t stop moving. When I fall asleep, it’s to the soothing peacefulness Dean has given me. And when he too falls asleep, I think it’s because he feels the security I felt of being so close again.

I’m home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's weird, when I first started writing this story, I had a whole plan for how it would look and it's changed so so much on me. For starters, the whole werewolf cult thing has played a MUCH smaller role than I expected. It's not done with her yet but I can't honestly say I know what is going to happen anymore. I'm just as much in the dark as anyone else lol


	21. Chapter 21

The next morning, I wake up alone. I roll onto my back and keep my eyes shut, always reluctant to immerse myself in my surroundings since I gave up any hope of being rescued. I shift a little to get comfortable, and that’s when I notice two things. One, I’m wearing clothing. Keith never lets me wear clothes anymore. And two, neither one of my ankles is currently cuffed to anything. My eyes fly open.

I’m greeted with a photo of Dean, baby Sam, and their mother. Holy shit. I forgot about the demon that saved me from the house. I’m back in the Batcave, with Dean. And Sam, and Castiel. And Keith…Keith is dead. I have to run from Dean’s room to the bathroom as soon as that thought hits me and vomit. He’s dead. Keith is dead. I repeat that over and over to myself while I curl up against the bathroom wall shivering. Nothing feels real.

“Melissa?” Dean’s yelling down the hall, likely looking for me, but I can’t bring myself to speak up. I may be safe, and Keith might be dead, but everything has changed. It’s been _months_ since I saw Dean and I was not the same person anymore. I was a broken, shattered shell of a person who vaguely looked like me, and even that was stretching the truth a little. Between the scars and the beatings and the starvation, I barely recognize myself when I look in the mirror now.

I’m still sitting in the bathroom when Sam finds me. I could hear both Dean and Sam calling my name as they wandered around looking for me, but I still didn’t say anything. So, when Sam finds me finally, he’s surprised. “Have you been here the whole time?” he asks softly, crouching down in front of me. I nod, not meeting his eyes. He glances at the toilet and must figure out why I’m here because he sighs, runs a hand through his very long hair before settling down next to me on the floor. I tense when he goes to put his arm around me, but don’t pull away in fear of his reaction. “Have you heard us calling for you?” I nod again. “Are you okay?”

That gets my attention. I look up at him, and his eyes are sincere. He genuinely wants to know, really cares about me and my well-being. I blink back tears for a moment before shaking my head no. I’ve never been less okay in my life. He grimaces and squeezes my arm, trying to offer me some sort of comfort I imagine.

Neither of us speaks again for a long time. After a while, I relax enough to lay my head on his shoulder, feeling exhausted already, and trusting him enough not to hurt me for now. His hand rubs up and down my arm for a long time, and I must doze off for a while, because when I next look up, Dean is crouched in front of me.

“Hey, baby,” he smiles. “I made you some soup, if you want. And I was thinking we could eat outside, if you want.” I hesitate, wondering if it’s a good idea, before finally placing my hand in Dean’s outstretched one. He can keep me safe or he can’t, but that won’t change if we’re inside or outside and I haven’t been outside in a very long time. He helps me up and leads me to the kitchen where he already has some soup in to-go mugs. He pulls two water bottles from the fridge, hands me a box of soup crackers, and leads me outside.

The sun is shining brightly when we exit the Batcave and I have to stop to bask in it for a minute when we get out there. While I have my eyes closed, Dean moves ahead to lay out a blanket for us to sit on while eating. I’m nervous about sitting down so casually with him, but after a bit of coaxing, finally join him on it.

It’s quiet for a long time, the only sounds the breeze blowing through the trees and any birds chirping at each other, and this is the happiest I’ve been in a very long time. The most peace I’ve had since Keith took me. I’m still on edge, but it’s almost like I can relax now, like my body knows Dean is safe and this place is safe, even if Keith being dead hasn’t sunk in yet.

The soup is long gone but Dean and I are still sitting on the blanket outside, basking in the sun. He takes my hand in his after a long while sitting in silence and pulls me closer to him. “I missed you so much,” he murmurs into my hair, “I never stopped trying to find you, I need you to believe that. Not once. If I wasn’t looking, someone else was. I had to find you.”

I swallow past a lump in my throat, trying to keep my breathing even so I don’t burst into tears. I’ve needed to hear those words for so long, needed to know someone was looking for me, knew I was gone, knew I needed help and wouldn’t just leave me to suffer. I can’t hold it in for long though and soon I’m sobbing into Dean’s shirt again. He holds me close, rubbing my back, much like last night, but this time he’s whispering reassurances to me, reminding me how much he needs me and cares about me. As I’m coming back to myself, he even whispers the three words I’d wanted to say to him back then.

“I love you, sweetheart. I missed you and I’m so glad you’re here and safe. I love you.”

I lift my head up off his chest to look him in the eye. “Really?” I croak, voice scratchy from disuse today. He gives me a sad smile and nods.

“Yeah, sweetheart, really. I love you so damn much.” He kisses me on the forehead then, and I can feel him putting all his emotions into that one kiss. At the same time, I’m grateful to him for not trying to kiss me anywhere else yet because I don’t know if I could handle that.

“I love you too,” I murmur. “At least, I think I do. I did, before. I was gonna tell you when you got back…but it was too fast and too soon and then there was no getting back because even if you did I wasn’t going to be there, so I kinda tried to not for a while because Keith was really angry that I wouldn’t love him and even though he asked I never said it because it was a lie and I didn’t want to lie about how I felt about you but he would get really mad.” I stopped to take a breath and noticed Dean’s horrified face. Oh shit. “Shit, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what got into me, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said all that…”

He stops me by taking both my hands in his. “Baby, no, it’s okay, I’m not mad at you,” he insists. “I just…you loved me before? We’d only had a couple days. How did you…”

I give him a small smile. “Yeah, but I’d been here for a long time. I already loved you both like family, so it wasn’t too hard to make the extra jump, especially not when I’d had a huge crush on you for a very long time at that point. It was natural, I guess.”

“Yeah,” he says softly. “Yeah, it was natural. For me, too. Except you were gone by then.” He pulls away for a moment, looking for something in my face. “Do you want to talk about it? What happened? How are you even here? Did you get away somehow?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. Keith was fighting a war against the Darkness apparently and he died, or so I was told, and then some demon popped up and poofed me outta there. Didn’t give me much info, just passed me off to Cas. I have no idea what happened after that.”

Dean frowns. “Did the demon give you a name?” I shake my head.

“Nope. Just…” I sit upright in alarm, glancing around wildly. “Fuck, he said something before he left, he said he would see me soon. What if…what if he’s here?”

“Relax, Melissa, no demon is coming here. They can’t get in, I promise. You’re safe. But you said the demon gave you to Cas? Where was this?”

Another shrug. “A forest? That’s all I got. He looked pretty irritated with the demon though. Maybe they made a deal? There was warding on the whole house and yard so he wouldn’t have been able to get through. I haven’t thought a whole lot about it, I’m just happy to be home.”

He kisses my forehead again, pulling me against his chest, deep in thought. “Me too, sweetheart. Me too.”

We don’t see Cas for a few days, which is good because it gives me time to get my thoughts together, but also bad because I want some answers and I’m also really hoping he can heal the scars I have. Particularly the ones Keith carved into me. I don’t want Dean or Sam to see them and feel worse. I know they already feel pretty guilty about what happened, I can see it on their faces every time they glance at me. I know there’s no point trying to ease the guilt, nor can I bring myself to because that would mean talking about it and I am very much actively not talking about anything. I wear high necked shirts and pants and long sleeves and avoid direct light on my face and say very little about what is going on with me to avoid any sort of attention, and that is how things need to be. I need a little time.

Of course, the moment I start to pick myself up off the ground is the moment Cas shows up. Something is a little off about him, though, and I can’t put my finger on it. It was there when he brought me home too, but I was too out of it to care at the time. Now that I’m conscious and aware, though, I can tell that he’s not the angel I knew.

“Hello, Dean. Sam, Melissa.” The angel greets us with his usual monotone voice before moving to sit next to Dean, as always. With me back, they’ve returned to their search for something to kill Amara, or, the Darkness. They tried Lucifer, but that was a bust, and God hasn’t shown up, so now they are trying these things called “Hands of God.” I have a lot to catch up on, so I’ve been reading various case notes Sam has made on his laptop to try to understand what’s happening so I can help, so I miss a lot of their conversation. When I tune in again, the boys are arguing.

“…and at the moment, I’m the least valuable player! You both know that I can’t kill Amara, so the least I could do is get the thing that we need so that you can,” Dean insists.

“Wait, what?” All three heads turn to me. “Why can’t you kill her?”

Dean shifts uncomfortably, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. Sam sighs and in my peripheral vision, it almost looks like Cas rolls his eyes. But that…that isn’t something Cas does.

“…something she said…bond…can’t hurt her…” Dean mumbles, eyes downcast. I send a questioning look to Sam, but he shakes his head slightly. _Later_ , he mouths.

“Okay, but you’re just going to leave?” My hands start to shake at the idea of being alone again, losing Dean. He must be able to tell that a panic attack is coming on because he is immediately standing in front of me, wrapping me in his arms.

“’M not leaving you, baby, I promise. It’s a milk run. In, get the weapon, out. Cas’ll be there the whole time.” I sniffle, but nod, and he kisses my forehead.

“I won’t let him out of my sight,” Cas says gravely, to reassure both me and Sam. And just like that, they’re gone. I slump back down into my chair and rest my head in my hands. Sam sits somewhere near me and picks up some papers to go through while we wait.

“They’ll be fine,” he says. I look up to see him smiling at me, sure they’ll be back. I nod, not trusting my voice.

Of course, that’s when Cas walks in the front door dripping wet.

To keep myself relatively calm, I head to the kitchen to make myself and Sam something to eat. I won’t be any help finding a spell or sigil to help Cas get back to Dean, and I won’t do myself any good panicking, so food is my distraction. I walk back into the library with a sandwich and a water for Sam at the same time he enters from the other side. Cas is standing at a table in the middle of the room working on what looks like a spell. I set the sandwich down, momentarily intrigued by what he’s doing. While Sam argues with Cas over doing the spell, I look down at the ingredients.

_The power of an archangel_.

“Wait a second. I remember Bobby told me when you needed strength to retrieve us from the past, you used him to power up, you touched his soul, right?” I jerk my head up to stare at Sam with wide eyes.

“ _What_? You’re not…what the fuck, Sam!”

Cas looks surprised for a moment, then thoughtful. “That’s right, I did that. But that procedure can be fatal.” Sam doesn’t hesitate.

“Use my soul. That way maybe you’ll have enough power to wield the spell.”

Cas and I speak at the same time.

“ _No_ , Sam! What if you die?”

“That isn’t necessary.”

Sam steps closer to the angel, surer of himself. “It’s worth the risk. Cas, Mel, Dean needs our help. I trust you.”

I’m about to argue more with him when Castiel starts to laugh. Sam and I give him identical looks of shock, mine because I’m not sure I’ve ever heard Cas laugh in the two-ish years I’ve known him. When he starts to ramble about needing Sam or Dean, I realize that I was right, something _was_ off about him. But when he throws Sam against the wall, I panic. Sam make eye contact with me.

“Melissa, run. Go, now,” he yells. Cas turns to look at me, a promise in his eyes and he just shakes his head. I take that as a sign that it will not go well if I leave, so I slowly sink into a chair, keeping my eyes on them at all times. Cas smirks at me and turns back to Sam.

“I will touch your soul. Just because you asked so nicely, and I’ll use your spell to blast through the warding and retrieve Dean and the uh, Hand of God, and then when Dean comes back and he finds this place decorated with your guts, I will tell him the truth, Sam. I’ll just say, ‘Dean – ‘” here he pauses. His voice up to now has been different than usual, but he clears his throat, “’Dean…he knew the risks. He wouldn’t take no for an answer.’”

Sam is frozen, but he manages to whisper one word. “Lucifer.” I’ve never seen him so scared before.

Cas grins. “In the flesh.” He thrusts his hand into Sam’s stomach to touch his soul and Sam screams. This lasts for a few moments before he staggers back, releasing Sam. Lucifer stares at his hand. “Hello Castiel.”

Sam drops to the floor, unconscious, and I take that chance to check on him, hoping that Lucifer is distracted enough to not care about me. _Please be alive, please be alive, please…_


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely thrilled with this chapter, but I've had a really really bad few days, so I just wanted to get it out there. My birthday is coming up in a couple days though, so this might be it for a while.

Sam was starting to come around, his head resting in my lap as I lightly tap his cheek and comb my fingers through his hair, when Lucifer dropped down next to us. His eyes fly open and he pushes himself up as much as he can, trying to get away from the archangel and protect me at the same time. “No, no! Don’t – Melissa, go!”

“Sam, it’s me.” We both narrow our eyes slightly at the vessel and the much deeper voice, but Sam speaks first.

“Cas? Why?” He sounds so betrayed, so hurt. I don’t know the history here, but I know there is one and I don’t know how to help. Dean didn’t want me to be more involved than I had to be, so only told me they had gone up against Lucifer once before and were lured down to spring him free under the pretense of him helping against the Darkness, but they said no and left him to rot. Or so they thought, I guess.

Cas looks down briefly, almost looking ashamed. “I wanted to be of service to the fight,” he explains, his eyes pleading for understanding as he looks at Sam first, then at me. “And only Lucifer can beat her.”

“The Darkness?” I whisper at the same time Sam shouts, “You _chose_ this? You have to fight, Cas! Eject him _now_!”

Cas grunts in pain. “I can’t! It’s taking all my strength to keep him from killing you. And besides, we need him.”

Sam shakes his head. “No, Cas, we don’t. We’ll find another way to stop Amara.” Right, the Darkness is a woman. A beautiful woman, according to Dean. I overheard him talking to Sam one night when he thought I was asleep, complaining about how much she haunted his dreams. I know he’ll never admit it, but between her and I, I think she would win thanks to the weird hold she apparently holds over him that I absolutely can’t compete with, especially after being gone for almost a year.

“We need him to save Dean.” I snap back to attention, gaping at Cas.

“No, no, no…he – you can’t –” I stammer. I can’t lose Dean again, not ever, and not to World War Two.

“You can’t time travel,” Sam says, terror in his voice.

“Only Lucifer can.” And with that, he’s gone. I look at Sam, who’s turned to face me.

“Sam,” I croak, terrified. He shakes his head.

“You have to go, go now. He’s gonna bring Dean back but I don’t know what he’ll do after that. Dean will kill me if you get hurt again. Please, go,” he begs with his puppy eyes, but I’m frozen. Lucifer had his chance to kill me already, when he rescued me, but he didn’t. Not only did he not kill me, he went out of his way to send a demon to find me. Now that I know it wasn’t Cas…why would he do that?

Sam starts to stand up and I get on my knees to help him. He’s onto his knees when we hear the soft sound of angel wings arrive.

“Dean!” I yell.

“Dean – that’s not Cas!” Sam shouts, pointing at the angel. Lucifer stands there with his hand on Dean’s shoulder, looking entirely too pleased with himself when Dean slowly looks at him.

Lucifer grimaces. “Cat’s out.” Using the one hand he still has on Dean, he throws him over the table towards Sam and I, and Sam falls backwards again. Sam stays still where he is, thinking of a plan, but I need to make sure Dean’s okay. I crawl over to him as fast as I can. He rolls onto his back, lightly groaning, and pushes onto his side to watch Lucifer while he talks. He reaches out to take my hand and pulls me closer to him, hoping that he can protect me like this. “I feel a burden lifted. You know, this whole – deep cover thing, it just wasn’t – it wasn’t terribly well thought out. Donning this – this Cas mask? This grim face of angelic constipation? It just – ugh. And _then_ , teaming up with you two? I mean,” out of the corner of my eye, I see Sam pull a switchblade from his back pocket and flick it open. I try not to react but I’m wondering what the plan is with that. Surely Lucifer will notice what he’s doing. “I thought you boys were insufferable as mortal enemies, but working with you. _That’s_ the soul crusher.”

Dean stands up, holding his ribs, glaring at Lucifer, while Sam slices his palm open. Now, I see the plan. I stand up with Dean, not sure where I fit in here, but not wanting to sit behind his legs like a child. Lucifer smirks at me and pushes Dean against the wall as hard as he can. Still able to move, I freeze, eyes wide. Lucifer continues to talk, mostly to himself, and Dean is hissing my name.

“Melissa, get out of here, now!” I make eye contact with him and see my panic mirrored on his face, but for different reasons. He just wants me to leave them behind, wanting me safe if nothing else. I refuse to leave them alone with Lucifer, unable to stomach being alone again.

The archangel picks up the cloth-covered rock. “With this, she will be no problem. I mean, I will have killed you both by then, and taken your girlfriend as my new queen, but still. Come on.” I startle and stumble back a step into Dean when he mentions taking me with him. I can’t be a prisoner again. He stalks towards us, smile growing wider as he sees my fear grow. He reaches out and uses his fingers to lift my chin so we can make eye contact. “What’s the matter? Too good for hell, princess?” My breath is shallow, shaky as he pulls me to him, his hand now wrapped around the back of my neck. “Guess we’ll have to see about that, hm?”

I shiver bodily. “Don’t, I – I can’t – why did you rescue me? Why would you bring me back here, alive, if you’re just going to kill me? Why spend the time and have the demon search for me?” Sam looks up sharply, wondering what the fuck I’m talking about probably, but I can’t look at him. I don’t want Lucifer to know what he’s doing. If only he would get his hands off me, Sam could blast him away. Lucifer just grins and pulls me closer. He lets his arm drop to my waist and reaches around me to unwrap the Hand of God.

“No!” Dean yells at Lucifer. “ _No_!” I try to turn in Lucifer’s arms, needing to see Dean, but Lucifer won’t let me move. Right now, I can only look at Lucifer’s face and I feel a cold spark run through me at the furious look of rage that comes over his face. The arm around my back tightens painfully and I cry out.

“It’s kicked,” Lucifer spits out.

I can _hear_ the smirk in Dean’s voice. “Well. Who’d’ve thought the Hand of God would turn out to be a one-hitter?” Lucifer growls deep in his throat and tosses the rock onto the table, shoving me out of his way. I stumble over my feet towards Sam, who takes a fraction of a second to see whether I’m free of Lucifer’s hands or not. The second Lucifer isn’t touching me, he slams his hand down on the sigil. But it’s not fast enough.

He turns, fury written on his face when he feels the sigil’s power, and his hand shoots out to wrap around my upper arm. There’s a flash of bright light, a scream, and then darkness. I’m (probably) not in Kansas anymore.

I groan when I wake up, my entire body sore from the impact of being banished. I’m lying on my stomach on a gravel road surrounded by corn fields and seemingly alone. I push myself up on my hands, before almost face-planting into the gravel when my broken left wrist makes itself known. Crying out, I try again, holding my left arm close to my body. Once on my feet, I turn around, trying to get my bearings. Lucifer is directly behind me.

I flinch violently, stumbling back a step. “What did you _do_?” he screams at me, his angelic voice making my ears ring painfully. I shake my head, unsure of what to say, taking another step back. His eyes narrow.

“I – I didn’t do anything, see, n-no blood!” I hold out my hands for his inspection and wince when I move my left hand. Lucifer smirks and grabs my arm, pulling a cry of pain from me once more.

He flips my hand over and back again, looking as though he’s entertaining himself immensely with my pain. When I try to jerk my arm back, he grips it tightly. “Okay, here’s how it’s going to be. I saved your pathetic life once, you _owe_ me. So, no one is to know about this outside of you, me, and the Lose-chesters. Got it?” He crushes my wrist further in his grip, bringing me to my knees.

“Yes,” I breathe out, “yes! Okay? Yes! I got it!”

“Great,” he spits and throws my arm back at me. I curl over it protectively, trying to hide the tears threatening to fall. He paces back and forth, muttering to himself. Finally, he stops, looking down at me intently. “Is your cellular phone here?” I frown, using my good hand to check my pockets before nodding. “Okay. I want you to text lover boy and tell him that if he tries to come after me, tries to get his precious Cas back, he’ll never see you again.”

I nod, tears falling now. My hand is shaking when I pull my phone out and it takes two tries to open up my messages. _Dean, lucifer wants me to tell you to let him go and leave Cas alone. If you don’t, I don’t know what he’ll do, but he says you’ll never see me again. Please_

Lucifer grabs my phone from my hand, reading over the message. He looks back down at me, holding the phone up to take a photo. “Look at me,” he says. I look up and he snaps the picture, obviously wanting to get the cradled, swollen wrist, the bloody scratches on my arms and face, and the dirt covering me in the picture for added effect. He hits send on the photo and the message, then pockets me phone. He holds out a hand to me. “Let’s go, princess. Time’s a-wasting, and Daddy’s sister ain’t gonna kill herself.”

Hell is nothing like I’d pictured. I imagined fire and screaming and red. What I got was brick walls, a throne/dungeon room straight out of a bad vampire film, and a demon on a leash. When Lucifer first brought me down here, I was overwhelmed with all the things I wasn’t expecting, but most of all, I was surprised by Crowley.

Dean and Sam had both told me stories about him, and the sad ‘pet’ he was for Lucifer now was nothing like the mostly evil, sometimes badass king in those stories. He sits in a cage whenever Lucifer has no need for him and when he is out, he’s relegated to some mundane, demeaning task such as cleaning the floors with a toothbrush – or his tongue, which nearly made me throw up in sympathy.

Lucifer keeps me close to him. He had a demon create a spelled set of handcuffs he could place on me that, rather than attach to each other, would essentially remain attached to his grace, making it impossible for me to stray very far from him. I’d tested it one night when he left me in his bedroom to get some rest and the burns I received on my wrists were not worth it. Neither was the abuse Lucifer rained down on me the next day in front of any demon who wished to see.

Now, though, now I just sit next to his throne and lean my head against the side, too tired to do anything else and too sure of my fate to care. Lucifer loves to remind me how time moves differently down here and by the time the boys are able to even think about rescuing me, it will have been _years_ in hell. I don’t cry though. He’s learned the last few months that I respond to very little, having slipped back into the headspace I found comfort in while I was with Keith. Until today.

Lucifer left a while ago, something about going out, and took off the spelled cuffs in favour of a set of cuffs he could use to link me to his throne. Something about not wanting to drag me along with him this time around to ruin another Hand of God. I almost bit back at him that I had nothing to do with that, but there wasn’t much point. All it would buy me is more of my own blood and I’ve been paid enough.

Simmons, who quickly became my least favourite ass-kisser, tries to sneak into the room as I’m starting to doze off. She peeks over at me, but I feign sleep, hoping to catch her in whatever it is she’s doing. When she goes to Crowley’s cage and opens it, though, I almost say something in shock. She _hates_ Crowley, makes that very clear on a regular basis.

“We don’t have much time,” she says. “I’m getting you out of here. Now.” What the fuck is she doing?

There’s no sound of movement from Crowley’s cage. “I can’t leave,” he says. It sounds like he’s completely given up on ever being his own demon again. Like me, he’s accepted his fate, his _ownership_.

Simmons scoffs. “You can. You still have friends…people who want you back…who want Lucifer gone.” _Maybe, but that ain’t you, bitch_ , I think. But I hold my tongue, waiting to see what else she says. “I don’t know what he’s done to you. I can’t imagine…but you’re…you’re not a slave, a dog. You’re _Crowley_ , and the Devil should be afraid of you.” I open my eyes. She’s looking down on Crowley, who looks thoughtful, and, for the first time since I’ve met him, a little prideful. Finally, he looks up at her and grins maliciously, nodding. He sees me looking in the corner of his eye and winks at me, bringing Simmons’ attention to me. “Well, shit. Guess I get to kill Lucifer’s favourite pet now.” She grins darkly before stalking towards me, pulling a long blade out of nowhere. I try to back up, but the throne is right there, and I don’t have much leeway with the cuffs. Shaking, I try to pull my hands out of them desperately, but they won’t give.

Before I close my eyes tightly and curl up, I see Simmons standing over me, her blade raised to strike.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've had a rough few days. Sunday the 6th was my 24th birthday, which should have been a good thing, but some family things made it a little bittersweet. So forgive me for not being very active here. I finally know how I'm going to finish this (I think) but there's a good chance it'll become a series. I'm not good at ending things lol anyways thanks for sticking with me

A newly freed Crowley pulls her away from me, putting himself in between us. He wrenches the knife out of her hand and puts it to her throat. Simmons whimpers, knowing she underestimated Crowley and overestimated herself. “Two choices,” Crowley growls. “You can step away and let me assist the girl, and then she comes along, or you can watch as I tear your insides out with my teeth.”

I shudder behind him, barely suppressing my own whimper. That is not something I want to watch whatsoever, but I appreciate the protection. Simmons takes a step back, seemingly realizing that killing me is not worth giving up whatever end goal she has. Crowley smirks. “There’s a good girl.” He turns around and snaps the cuffs off my wrists, then helps me stand. My knees are wobbly under me after sitting for days at a time, having been in hell for a year at least and spending most of it chained to the throne.

I smile slightly at him when he pulls his arm away, thinking I can move on my own. When I take a step down the stairs, however, my leg gives out under me and he has to catch me. “Sorry,” I mumble, blushing beet red. It’s not often that I can’t even do something basic like walk, so I’m embarrassed that Crowley has to get involved, but he doesn’t say a word. Just helps me along as we head towards the door.

The door bursts open when we’re within a few feet of it and a group of demons stride in, weapons out. Their eyes flash black. “Well, well, look who we have here. Lucifer’s whore and Lucifer’s dog, hoping to find a new master?” one taunts, making the others laugh. I flinch at his words. The demons have insisted on calling me his whore since I’ve been here whenever Lucifer hasn’t been around, despite it being common knowledge that Lucifer has no interest in sex – he hates humanity and everything to do with it. It still gets to me when they say it, though, because it’s horrific to think about, actually having to live that life, especially after all I’ve been through. “Simmons, what have you done?” The question is asked mockingly, they aren’t expecting an answer and probably don’t care what it would be anyways. Crowley steps in front of me swiftly and I’m reminded that only he has a weapon, Simmons and I are both unarmed.

In the end, it doesn’t matter. Crowley is an extremely skilled fighter and even after he tossed the knife to Simmons, he still managed to wrestle one from the other demons and stab two in less than a minute. Simmons managed to get the third one and I stand behind them, completely useless. “How…” Simmons stares at Crowley with a mixture of awe and disgust on her face. I narrow my eyes and watch her closely, something seems off.

Crowley smirks back at her. “I’m Crowley.” With that, he reaches out for me again and blinks us out of hell.

We land in an alley of what sounds like a busy city. There’s a lot of people passing by the end of the alley by the street, and car horns honking and sirens. All things I didn’t think I’d get to hear again. I was sure that even if Lucifer did beat the Darkness like he claims he can, he would then go on his rampage and destroy humanity.

I take a deep breath in, savouring the fresh air. I look around us, curious as to where Crowley brought us. With no clues to be found in the dark alley, I look back to Crowley for answers. He’s deep in thought, though, and Simmons stands on his other side, glaring at me. It’s easy to see she would kill me on the spot without a second thought, even with Crowley there, if she weren’t trying to get something from him.

“Crowley,” I whisper, not wanting to break his concentration but also needing his attention. He hums and tilts his head towards me in invitation to continue speaking, eyes still on the road ahead of us. “Could I find a payphone to call Sam or Dean?”

Simmons startles at that and opens her mouth, likely to argue against it, but Crowley beats her to it, frowning at me. “Why? When Lucifer finds you missing, the first place he’s going to look will be with the dynamic duo. Just – stick with me for now.”

“I said call, not go back,” I grumble. “I don’t even know where we are, Crowley. And I’m sure they have bigger problems.”

Simmons and Crowley both snort a laugh at that. I glance at them, confused. “Squirrel was so panicked about you being gone that even _Lucifer_ was sending out demons to find you. That wasn’t him masquerading as Castiel. Squirrel literally kicked up a big enough fuss that all of Hell was instructed to keep an eye out for you. So, no, princess,” at that I glare at him. He rolls his eyes, “they will drop literally everything to come get you and if you don’t tell them where you are, they’ll hunt you down. Only reason they haven’t already is they can’t get into hell without help. I.e., me. So. Let’s see about that Hand of God.”

Finally seeming to have his bearings, Crowley sets off out of the alley. He leads Simmons and I through the town to a storage facility. The kid at the front desk lets us in immediately, eyes flashing black as he nods to Crowley before winking at Simmons. I narrow my eyes at him, but he pays me no attention.

As we walk down the hallways to get to the locker Crowley rents, I feel uneasy. It’s almost as if I can feel something dangerous heading towards us and I glance at Simmons instinctively. Her lips are twitching slightly, almost as though she’s speaking. _Fuck_.

“Crowley, hey, can I help?” I blurt out loudly, startling Simmons. Crowley raises an eyebrow at the sudden enthusiasm but waves me along. Once I get closer to him, I lean in. “I think Simmons is calling Lucifer,” I whisper as quietly as possible. He looks back over his shoulder quickly to see Simmons right behind us. She smirks.

“Kid’s smart, I’ll give ‘er that.” Her eyes flash black and she throws me to the wall using her powers. I grunt with the impact and when she lets me fall to the ground, I have to close my eyes to orient myself. I hit my head going down and it’s definitely bleeding now. I reach up to see where and hiss when my fingers gently touch a deep cut by my eyebrow. When I pull my hand away, it’s covered in fresh blood and already I feel light-headed.

Someone screams. I look up and see Crowley standing with a staff in hand, a pile of ash on the floor, and Lucifer stalking forward, fury written all over his face. Crowley glances over at me, shrugs slightly, and disappears. My eyes widen, knowing I’ve just been left alone with a very angry Lucifer and I’m shaking at the thought. He rounds the box Crowley was standing behind to see an empty space and whirls back around to glare down at me.

“Hey, baby, you didn’t think it would be that easy, now, did you?” He smiles, but the smile is out of place on his face, _Cas_ ’ face. I close my eyes, thinking this is where he kills me. Instead, I feel him crouch down in front of me. Opening one eye to peek at him shows the spelled cuffs. My eyes fly open and I try to crawl backwards away from him, useless as it is. He sighs and drops his head down. “Look,” he bites out. “I’m not actually going to hurt you. If I was, don’t you think I would have already?” I frown at him.

“You’ve kept me locked up for weeks in Hell,” I refute quietly.

Lucifer hums thoughtfully and taps his chin with his pointer finger. “You could choose to look at it that way. _Or_ you could look at it my way. Lover boy gets it up for Auntie Amara, doesn’t he? And she sure as hell has a hard on for him, so if she knew you were back in the game? You’d be dead faster than you could blink. So really, I’m keeping you safe.”

I laugh, a real, genuine laugh. “Wow, that’s some incredibly twisted logic you got going on there. I don’t think something like the Darkness really gives a shit about me. Not like I’d be any real competition for her anyways. Dean and I, we were only together for a couple weeks before…well, before, and then a week or so after. That’s barely anything.” I shrug, trying to look like this doesn’t bother me as much as it does. “I mean, what’s a few weeks compared to a super-charged cosmic connection?”

Lucifer grins and leans back on his heels. “There we go, that’s the spirit! So, princess, you gonna cooperate or am I putting my favourite toys to use again?” I take a deep breath in before giving in. He’s going to win anyways. He’s an archangel with the power of hell behind him. I’m a traumatized and damaged twenty-year-old girl. Not much I can do at this point. Lucifer stands and holds his hand out for me. He pulls me to my feet, healing my head in the process, before flying back to hell.

Lucifer’s last mistake, at least with me, was giving in. After we returned to hell, albeit unwillingly in my case, he began to allow me more leeway. If I wasn’t up to it, he would leave me in his rooms instead of forcing me to attend his court with him. He hadn’t put the cuffs on me since we came back, although part of that is because I stopped fighting him so much. After a few weeks of quiet co-existence, he started to ask me things, about my life, my family, humanity.

“What is the point of having such large houses if there are only a few people living in them? Where are the rest of the people?”

“Why do humans insist on killing so many animals all the time?”

“Why is everything so badly destroyed? The trees and the water and even the plants get sick and die. What did you do to them?”

“How could my father possibly love you this much?” (I couldn’t even attempt an answer at that one.)

“Why do humans put so much time into something like a job if it doesn’t make them happy? The lifespan of a human is so short – shouldn’t they do something they enjoy?”

“It doesn’t really work like that. Some people get to work in jobs they love which makes it better, but other people just have to take what they can get. It’s how I ended up at Wal-Mart. I needed a job, they were hiring, and I stuck it out for just over two years. For some stupid reason, it costs money to be human and money isn’t free. I have to be able to buy food and clothes and have a place to live. And if I want to actually enjoy my life, I need a little bit more money to buy myself nice things or go places. My dad spent a lot of money on cars because that’s what we really liked, and my mom really liked planting things and helping them grow. But they needed money to have those things, so my mom worked as a secretary, which she hated, and my dad worked in the car industry, which he mostly enjoyed.”

Lucifer always thought a lot about what I had to say. I liked to think I was changing his mind about humanity, but maybe he was just trying to make it make sense. But one day, he started asking different questions.

“Do you miss your family?” I look up at him from the couch. He just flew in from court and landed behind me in the living room.

“Of course, I miss my family, why?”

He tilts his head, à la Castiel. “Well, your father spent many years keeping secrets from you, did he not? Why would you miss someone who lies to you?”

I smile sadly. “Because he loved me. He would do anything to keep me safe and happy and I have to believe that’s why he kept his secrets. Everything else he did for me was for my benefit and he taught me so many things. The bad can’t even begin to outweigh the good.” Lost in thought, I don’t notice how much attention Lucifer is paying my words. “My dad – he was amazing. He taught me about cars, and he loved to show me off. He’d teach me things at home and take me to work with him to brag about how smart I was. And, when I thought the world was ending, he was able to say all the right things to make me realize it didn’t have to be.” Absently, I reach for Marie’s nametag only to realize I don’t have it. I panic, patting all my pockets, trying to find it. I glance around wildly, knowing it won’t be there, but not sure what to do. I haven’t noticed until now, but it obviously hasn’t been here for a while.

Lucifer notices my actions and watches in confusion. “What are you doing?”

Blushing, I look down at my lap. “Nothing,” I mumble. “Doesn’t matter anyways.”

He squints at me. “It matters to you. Is it to do with your father?”

“No.”

“What then?”

I don’t answer. He’s made his rooms into an apartment of sorts, so instead of answering him, I head to my designated bedroom and close the door. I had wards on the door to keep him out and they only worked when the door was closed, so he didn’t like it when I closed it. But right now, I needed some privacy.

The second I reach my bed, I collapse. The tears are flowing before I can even think about it and I can’t breathe. How could I forget about Marie? How did I not notice her nametag was missing all this time? Why did it take talking about my dad with the _Devil_ to realize my one prized possession, the one thing that can keep me grounded and hold the PTSD nightmares at bay, was gone?

I stay crumbled on the bed for a long time. When Lucifer knocks on the door, I’m all cried out but too exhausted to get up.

“Melissa, open the door,” he snaps after I don’t answer him for the third time. “You have one minute to unlock and open this door, or so help me Dad…”

I open one eye and glance at the door. Sighing, I peel myself off the bed, stumble to the door and unlock it, swinging it open. As soon as I decide Lucifer will be satisfied, I return to the bed and curl up on my side. He stands in the door for a minute, watching me.

“Okay, princess, up and at ‘em. Places to be, lovers to smite, you know the drill,” he says, coming to sit on the edge of the bed. I don’t react. “Melissa, let’s go.” His voice has a dangerous edge to it, but I still don’t move. If this is what it takes for him to snap and finally, _finally_ , put me out of my misery, then so be it. The room gets very quiet after I think that.

Suddenly, Lucifer’s hand tangles itself in my hair and wrenches my head up and back, forcing my eyes open. I cry out at the pain as he pulls me to a sitting position by my hair, then gets very close to my face to force eye contact. “Let me make one thing _very_ clear, princess. Long as you’re with me, there isn’t going to be any dying. Not for you. Not Auntie Amara, no one lays a hand on you but me. You’re mine now. And when we get done with the boys, we’re going to chat about this little episode,” he waves his fingers around at me to encompass my state in the last few hours. He snaps a cuff on one hand with the hand not holding me up and I glare at him. “Now, let’s go see the boys, shall we?”


	24. Chapter 24

The second we land in the dilapidated church they’ve taken over, it becomes obvious that they were waiting for us. I knew they’d be waiting for Lucifer, but I had no way of knowing if Crowley could get to them or not and let them know I was safe, let alone alive. But by the fury written all over Dean’s face, he knows where I’ve been and what Lucifer has done.

Sam drops a lighter on the floor and flames burst into life in a circle around us both. Lucifer hasn’t let go of me yet and I know better than to pull away. Dean is looking at me with a mixture of pain, horror, and fury now that he sees the cuff on my wrist and Lucifer’s hand tangled in my hair. Lucifer starts to laugh, though, and that gets everyone’s attention, even Crowley’s, who I can see in the back of the room.

“I’m sorry, your prayer implied that I’d be joining the team, but I’m just not feeling the warm and fuzzy here.” His hand tightens slightly, making me wince and lean closer to him to ease the pain. Dean’s eyes shoot back to me when I whimper quietly. He shoots me a sympathetic look before he glances at Sam.

“Now!” Sam quickly chants out a spell and slams his hand against a sigil on the wall. There’s a flash of light and Lucifer goes still, before his hand drops from my head and I fall to my knees. I glance up and see that he is standing like a statue and slowly start crawling away backwards, keeping my eyes on him.

Dean yells for Castiel, begging him to come back to us, but despite Cas’s best efforts, Lucifer wins out. But I know and Lucifer knows that even if Cas could fight for control, he wouldn’t force the archangel out. He feels too useless, needs to be able to contribute to a fight he helped create.

“Bloody hell,” Crowley groans from behind me. Red smoke enters Lucifer’s body and he goes still once more. I whip my head around to look over my shoulder and see Crowley’s body laid out on one of the church pews.

“Melissa, baby, c’mon, we gotta get you out of there,” Dean pleads, suddenly kneeling behind me. I blink rapidly, not yet taking my eyes off Lucifer, before realizing I have to stand up if I want to get out of the circle made of fire as I will not be able to crawl through the fire. I stand slowly, unsure of my own strength, and Dean reaches for me. I step over the fire as best I can and it just barely grazes my legs, so I take that as a success.

He pulls me away from the fire to a side hallway where a red-headed woman is waiting. I frown at her and look to Dean, confused. “Oh, right. Rowena, Melissa. Melissa, Rowena, witch, Crowley’s not-so-human mother, opened Lucifer’s cage, also recently killed by Lucifer.”

“Well, don’t sugar coat it for the wee girl,” Rowena mutters. “C’mere, lass. Let me take a look at you.” With a nod from Dean, I take a shy step forward. Rowena takes my hand and whispers something I don’t understand. Her eyes flash purple for a brief moment and seconds later, the cuff falls off my wrist. I look up at Dean in shock.

“What the hell?”

“Crowley told us everything, sweetheart. Made sure we would have a spell to remove the cuffs from you if he was still using them. We knew he wouldn’t come alone. He’s too proud. He would have thought he had to show off that he’d taken you from us, from me. So, we played him.” Dean smirks, clearly proud of himself.

I gape at him. “You _dumbass_! What if it hadn’t worked? What would you have done?”

He shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck, a sheepish smile on his face. That’s when Rowena gasps and looks over my shoulder. “Lads, the warding’s beginning to fail!”

Dean rushes back to where Sam is standing to see the flames start to slowly die out. There’s a crackling sound near Crowley’s body and I look to see the words _Help me_ appear on his forehead. “Sam,” I croak, and he immediately starts an exorcism, hoping that will save Crowley. The red smoke I’m assuming is Crowley comes out of Lucifer’s mouth and immediately reanimates his body.

“Useless,” Crowley spits. “Lucifer’s hold on him is too strong.”

Lucifer blinks his eyes open and smiles dangerously as the flames die completely. “Ah, trick me? You lied to me. You know, I could have been your warrior. My little princess knows how strong I am.” I shudder at the insinuation and Dean shifts in front of me as much as he can without drawing too much attention. Rowena hides behind the wall again, Sam and Dean pull out their angel blades, Crowley disappears, but I don’t move. I’m completely frozen in place, terrified. Even though I had nothing to do with any part of this plan, I have no idea how Lucifer is going to react.

He looks over to me, over Dean’s shoulder, and winks. “Let’s have some fun.” Everything goes black.

I come back to consciousness moments later when Amara herself arrives. Lucifer takes his shot with the Hand of God Sam and Dean had found, but, as I had long begun to suspect, it didn’t even leave a scratch. But with all his attention focused on her, I feel brave enough to move and seconds later, I’m sitting next to Dean in one of the pews. He looks me over quickly for injuries before helping me sit up. The light coming off of Lucifer when he picks up the Hand of God is blinding, so I tuck my face into his jacket. When the light dies, I turn to peek at the scene in front of us.

Amara is completely unharmed. She doesn’t look angry or sad at Lucifer trying to kill her, just reaches for him and his body moves towards her unwillingly. She brings her hand up to his face and cups it gently, much more gently than I would have expected. Still frozen in place, Dean cries out. “Cas?”

Lucifer and Amara both turn to look at us. She raises her free hand and suddenly Dean shoots forward, released from Lucifer’s hold. She hesitates then, tilting her head when she looks at me, then smiles. “Maybe your pet can help you see things my way.” She snaps her fingers and I feel myself pulled to her. Then, in another display of light, we leave and reappear in an old silo.

She throws Lucifer against a wall and I wince as he hits it. I try to back away, hoping to be left out of this for now, but she reaches back and grabs my hand to tug me forward. Lucifer narrows his eyes down at her from where he’s now standing.

“Okay. Okay. Look, I know you have a major beef with me. You probably want to finish me. But you may want to rethink your position, cause I could actually be of use to you,” he says, almost convincingly. If I hadn’t just spent an incredibly long time with him, I might have believed him.

She raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Really?”

Lucifer looks surprised. “You hadn’t considered? We both have an axe to grind with God. I know his soft spots. He can’t handle us both.”

Amara’s grip starts to crush my hand, crushing bones into dust and I sink to my knees in pain, mouth open in a wordless scream. I look up at Lucifer with tears in my eyes, begging him to stop, to stop angering her, and make this better. He makes eye contact with me and looks me over before paying attention to my hand and glares murderously at his aunt, taking a step forward. I’ve never seen him so angry.

She laughs. “Do you, for one moment, think that I would actually consider trusting you for anything? I did trust you once. You and my brother conspired to seal me away for eons. But you’re right, you might be of some use to me. You and your…” she glances down at me in disgust and fascination, “pet.”

Lucifer’s eye twitches at the term but it’s so brief I think I’m the only one who notices. “All right,” he says tightly. “Good. Now we’re talking.” He moves forward again, close enough that our hands could probably reach, not that it would do much good. But just as quick as she was before, she throws him back against the wall and holds him there this time. She drops my hand, leaving me to curl into myself on the ground.

I lose track of everything around me. I’m fucking terrified. I can’t hear anything but the rushing in my ears that I think is a sign of shock. My hand is nothing more than skin and muscle and tissue at this point and I don’t see it being healed anytime soon.

Lucifer takes a step towards me after Amara finishes a speech about destroying the universe, one to rival his own, and smirks. “You’re expecting him? Oh. Well…I wouldn’t wait up. Pretty sure he caught the last train out.” As he speaks, he moves closer to me, almost as though he’s trying to protect me.

She smiles, as though she knows something we don’t. “We’ll see.” With that, she throws Lucifer back against the wall and suddenly his chest and his eyes light up gold and he screams. I have to shield my eyes and look away, but I can’t escape the screams. Finally, I can’t take it anymore.

“Stop!” I scream, trying to get to my feet. “Stop, please, stop.” I know that tears have been streaming down my face since she broke my hand, and I know I must look pathetic, pleading for the devil, but I can’t handle much more. Amara turns to look at me, an unreadable expression on her face. “Amara, please,” I choke out. “I know you want God to come, but…but he left Lucifer in a cage for almost as long as he did you. I don’t…I don’t think he’s going to come for Lucifer.” I shoot an apologetic look to the angel before turning my attention back to Amara.

She hums. “Why?”

I blink. “What?”

“Why? Why did he lock him away?” She takes a few steps forward until she could reach out and touch me. I try not to cower away, but it’s a losing battle.

Taking a step back, I consider my answer. “I mean, I wasn’t – there but if you read the Bible…”

Both Lucifer and Amara snort at that. “The Bible?” she asks, mocking me. “You mean the book that my brother told men to write so that he could force worship on the people he made? He wanted free will, but he had to have his recognition.”

I shrug pathetically. “I don’t know,” I whisper. “All I know is Lucifer wouldn’t love humans, hated them, because he only loved his father and his brothers and because of that, God sentenced him to an eternity in Hell. Well, until he broke out and the apocalypse sort of, almost happened. But that was only like five, six years ago? I wasn’t there for that either…But if God didn’t come then and he didn’t come when you were released, I don’t think he’s coming.”

Amara screams in frustration at my words and backhands my cheek. I collapse from the force of it and simply stay on the ground where I lay, afraid to anger her further. She stares at Lucifer for a long time, contemplating, before she turns back to me. “But he would come for Castiel, would he not?”

“Wh-what?” I stammer, not sure where she’s going with this. “Castiel – he’s not, I mean…”

Lucifer finishes my thought. “Castiel can’t come to the phone right now, is what the pet is trying to say.” His smug smile is wiped off his face when Amara hits him with another blast of her power and he screams. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the sound, but I can’t. Finally, she stops, and it goes silent.

“Maybe not,” she muses. “But his is not the only vessel you could be in, so I think it’s time to bring little Castiel back.” Lucifer glares down at her.

“How do you plan on doing that? You can’t just whip up a vessel for an _archangel_ ,” he snaps at her. She makes a face, before disappearing. He drops to the ground on his knees and glances over at me. “Princess?” he asks softly, his tone kinder than I’ve ever heard it. I look at him with a look of defeat written throughout my entire body. He gives me a grimace that I think was meant to be a smile before he pushes to his feet. Making his way over to me, he stumbles a couple times and I don’t move an inch, simply track his movements with my eyes.

Lucifer drops down to his knees in front of me once again. He puts one hand under my chin and tilts it up, so we make eye contact. “I’m sorry, princess,” he murmurs. “I didn’t want you to get hurt. I promised you no one would hurt you, not even Amara.” He moves his hand to cup my cheek and I feel warmth spread through my body as my hand is fixed and all my other injuries that I hadn’t noticed repair themselves as well. I look up to him, still teary-eyed, not sure what to do now. I can’t imagine we can leave, even though she’s gone.

“I…I’m scared,” I admit begrudgingly. “More than I was of you, more than my uncle. But I don’t know anything about her, so I don’t know why I’m so scared.” Lucifer doesn’t say anything, just takes my hand and pulls me to my feet. He leads me over to the wall and we both slide down, his hands never leaving my skin. He wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me closer to him. I wasn’t expecting this tenderness or care from the devil, so I glance up at him. “What are you doing?” I ask quietly.

“Shh, princess. Just…close your eyes. Nothing we can do now but wait.” Feeling oddly comforted and safe with his words, I lean my head on his shoulder and shut my eyes, finally feeling my exhaustion. With Lucifer as my protector, I fall asleep in Amara’s hideout.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't been super active here, I've been working like crazy but not really coming up with the inspiration I need. Life has been pretty rough lately too...basically been rejected by my mom entirely just for moving across the country and two of the managers at a temp job I took are making everyone's lives a living hell so it's been a rollercoaster of a month so far. 
> 
> Anyways, enjoy! I think I've come up with a conclusion to the story (at least this part) but I'm not 100% sold yet.
> 
> As always, I love y'alls comments and I swear one of these days I'll sit down and respond to them (or figure out how to do that properly)

I’m starting to wake up again when Amara returns. She has a limp body in her arms, and someone is following behind her. Lucifer is immediately on alert, crouching in front of me. She laughs out loud when she sees that and, waving one of her hands, throws Lucifer against the opposite wall and holds him there, face first. I stay where I am, terrified, eyes tracking her every move. She lays a body down on the table in the centre of the room and the person behind her slows to a stop in the shadows. Amara moves towards me and pulls me to my feet roughly by my upper arm and walks us over to stand in front of Lucifer. She turns him over, so he has to look at her. Using her powers, she constructs what could be considered a crude replicate of a crucifixion cross and binds Lucifer to it. He screams when her cuffs wrap around his wrists and when I squint, I can see the warding she has etched into them.

I feel cold. She’s thought this through so he can’t escape or use any of his grace. Meeting his eyes, I try not to show my fear, but give him encouragement. The devil or not, I’m not making it out of here alive without him. He rolls his eyes down at me, clearly hearing my thoughts.

“Dear nephew,” Amara croons, her grip on my arm tightening. “I hope you and your _pet_ enjoyed your little rest because I realized how I can get God to come back. You probably recognize the body behind me, no?” Lucifer looks past Amara and his face pales. I try to turn to see who it is, but she stops me. “Wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise now, would we, dear?” She smiles at me, but it’s not a kind smile or a reassuring one.

“Okay, so you found the vessel, congrats,” Lucifer snarks. “Now what? What’s the next step of this master plan, Auntie?”

“Come on out,” she calls and the figure in the shadows takes a few steps forwards. It comes around to stand between Amara and I, and Lucifer, and stops. Then it raises its head.

My knees give out immediately. Amara lets me drop, relishing in the air of fear around me. I look at Lucifer who is staring at the figure with venom in his eyes, before he looks down at me. I can see my own horror reflected in his eyes, but also concern and sympathy. _He wasn’t kidding_ , I realize. _He genuinely does care for me_. The figure takes a step towards me and Lucifer snarls, but this doesn’t stop them. They come to a stop in front of me and put their hand under my chin and tilt it up so we’re making eye contact.

“Hey, baby,” Keith smirks. “Miss me?”

“ _Amara_!” Lucifer roars when he sees Keith’s face. “What do you think you’re _doing_?”

I’m standing stock still, staring at Keith in shock. Last I’d heard, he was dead. I have no idea how he’s standing here in front of me, unless Amara resurrected him, but if he was dead, he should’ve been in purgatory…my brain is going a mile a minute. But I still can’t move. Keith continues to stare down at me with a triumphant look on his face, clearly very proud of himself. Although I don’t know yet for what.

Amara smiles back at the furious archangel. “Well, I needed to find you a vessel, but it might take time to ensure it will hold you…and I couldn’t have the two of you planning a grand escape, now could I? So, I brought in some…backup, you might say. Should keep us all suitably occupied, don’t you think?”

Keith drags a finger down my face, to my neck, before running his hand down my back to my ass. He grabs it and uses it to pull me tight against him. He smells my hair, taking a deep breath when he does, and moans loudly. It’s this sound that kicks me into gear, that finally makes my fear act out. My hands come up and shove him backwards as hard as I can.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” I yell at him. “You – you don’t get to do that! You lost that right the second you went and _murdered_ someone thinking it was for me!” Keith chuckles, taking a step toward me. I look around me and make eye contact with Lucifer, who looks downright murderous.

“Keith,” he says, low and dangerous, getting everyone’s attention. “You touch her one more time and you will regret it for eternity. And I’m not exaggerating.” Keith smirks back at him and reaches out to me, grabbing me by the hair and pulling me close.

“I don’t think so, princess,” he murmurs in my ear, still keeping eye contact with Lucifer. We both know he can hear everything we say no matter the volume. “You got away from me once, this time I’m gonna make sure that ain’t happening. Might even turn you.” That statement turns my whole body cold and I jerk forward. Amara is suddenly in front of us and smiles down at me.

“My nephew seems to be very fond of you, so I’m going to be as gentle as I can be when I do this.” I frown at her, confused. She reaches out and puts her palm against my bare arm and suddenly it burns. I scream in agony and swear I can smell my own flesh burning. When she takes her hand back, I look down to see some kind of brand or sigil. Tears falling down my face, I look back at her. “You can’t leave here, now. Get used to these walls ‘cause this is all you’ll see until I bring the world to an end.”

In despair, I glance at Lucifer. His eyes are downcast and there’s a sense of defeat in his body. Amara claps her hands together and turns away from us to return her attention to the archangel. Keith drags me backwards to a door I hadn’t seen before. When he opens it, I see a king-sized bed first and my vision narrows to just that. Keith shoves me forwards and I fall to my knees in front of the bed, unmoving. He slams the door shut behind us and the sound is deafening, closing the door on any hope I had of rescue.

Immediately after, I hear Lucifer’s screams start again. I hunch into myself, finding it impossible to both listen and block the sound out, needing to know he’s there, but hating to hear the pain. He’s my only ally in this hell and I need him to survive Amara.

It’d be ever better if Dean could find me somehow, but I won’t place my hopes on him. If God’s sister doesn’t want him to find us, I doubt he will.

Hours later, Keith and I are both covered in blood and sweat, and I’m curled into a ball, facing away from him. My eyes are unseeing, and my tears have slowly died with my soul. When he first brought me in here, he took care to tie me down to the bed, spread eagle, before pulling out a very sharp blade. He ran it over my skin without cutting for a while, letting the tension build, before he started in on my arms, my neck, and my face. He left small cuts everywhere, big and deep enough to bleed, but not enough to be fatal or need stitches in most cases. After that, he cut all my clothes off.

He takes great pleasure in running the knife over the rest of my body and making more cuts. He redoes the claim on my chest, obviously not satisfied with how faint it is now after Lucifer healed me a few times. It was usually from another injury, generally caused by him, but the grace would go after any injury on my body. I refuse to make a sound while he does this, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. He’s done worse to me, and I spent time in Hell. I am tougher than this.

Not long after that thought occurs to me, he starts breaking things. He breaks a couple ribs, fingers, toes, things that weren’t as horrible but would cause agonizing pain no matter how I chose to move. When he’s finally done, I doubt I could recognize myself in the mirror.

He moves behind me, the rustle of the sheets my only clue to his whereabouts. “Princess, have you wondered yet how I’m here?” I don’t respond.

It takes a few minutes, but he crouches down in front of me, directly in my sight, forcing me to see him. I blink a few times, still refusing to respond verbally. He sighs and rolls his eyes up.

“I was never dead,” he says and _that_ gets my attention. I jolt back, needing to be in my own space for information like that. He grins maliciously, satisfied with my reaction. “We went out to battle and somehow, I found myself face to face with Amara herself. You were back at the house under lock and key, but I guess she could feel the tension bleeding from me. I hated leaving you behind unprotected.” I snort.

“Unless, of course, it’s you I need protecting from,” I mutter to myself. He stands and pulls me up to sit facing him, before slapping me across the face.

“But once I got closer to her, it all stopped. She could, I don’t know, smell you on me? And by extension, she could smell your precious _Dean_ ,” he sneers at me, bowling right over what just happened. “She knocked me out and, after she won the battle singlehandedly, brought me back here. She spent time picking my brain on the Winchesters, wanting to know everything she could. After, she told me I could go if I would turn wolves for her. In return, if she could ever return my property,” he eyes me meaningfully when he says this, “to me, I would come back for you. We…allied ourselves you could say.”

“For me,” I say weakly.

“For _me_ ,” he corrects. “I never got what I wanted out of you, princess. So, here’s the deal. I don’t turn you into a werewolf as long as you cooperate. I want a son.”

I stare at him, gaping. “You won’t turn me into a werewolf as long as I magically produce a baby for you? Is there a timeline or can it be any baby, anytime?”

He wraps his hand around my throat and pulls me closer to him. “Make jokes all you want, but I’m serious. You either have my baby or you get bit. It’s one or the other,” he growls, then shoves me back down on the bed. “You get twenty-four hours. I want an answer by then.” With that, he leaves the room, locking it behind him.

Several hours later, I can hear yelling from outside the door. It doesn’t sound like Keith or Lucifer, but it’s definitely a male voice so I jump up and run to the door. Pounding against it, I yell, “Help! God, please, I’m in here, please help me.” I can hear footsteps on the other side of the door and then it sounds like someone is picking the lock. I back up a few steps in case it’s someone I don’t want to come in, like Keith, but when the door finally swings open, Sam’s face is there. “Sam!” I throw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck, and immediately break down into sobs.

“Shit, Melissa,” he whispers, horrified at the state I’m in. I pull back and look down at myself, having completely forgotten that I’m covered in my own blood from various injuries all over my body. In the heat of the moment, I also forgot about all the broken bones he gave me, and I almost fall to my knees before Sam catches me. He sits me back on the bed and wraps his flannel around me, glancing around the room for any other clothing options. Finally, he grabs the top sheet, covered in blood though it is, and wraps me in that, before lifting me in his arms bridal style.

Sam carries me out to the main room, where Lucifer is leaning on an older man I don’t recognize, and another man is yelling at them to leave. I can barely keep my eyes open at this point and I just want to go home. “Lucifer, Donatello, we gotta go!” Sam shouts and they all turn to look at us. Lucifer is also covered in blood and clearly weakened from his time with Amara, but his face darkens when he sees me.

Clearly sensing his entrance, that’s the moment that Keith returns to the building.

Sam practically drops me in his haste to put me behind him and Lucifer growls low, deep in his chest. Keith stands with his hands in his pockets and smirks.

“Trying to run away with my things there Winchester?” He steps towards Sam, who’s pulled his gun. “That’s not gonna hurt me, ya know. Takes a bit more than your average bullet.”

“Good thing it’s a silver bullet then,” Sam bites out. Keith’s face freezes for a moment before relaxing back into a smirk.

“Amara will just bring me back. We’re partners, you see.” Lucifer lunges for him when he says that, depleted grace or not, and wraps his arm around Keith’s neck. He slams his palm on Keith’s forehead and they both start to glow.

“She doesn’t belong to you,” he snarls as he smites Keith. As soon as Keith’s body drops though, Lucifer almost follows him. Donatello rushes forward to support him as Sam turns around to pick me up again. We head to the Impala outside and I shudder as we pass Keith’s body. That’s five members of my family now. Plus all the other people and things I’ve seen killed over the last couple years. I feel like I’m starting to rack up a body count.

The second Sam gets me into the front seat of the car and slams the door, I drop. Slumped over, I fall into a deep sleep that won’t be disturbed until my body has time to weave itself back together. Maybe after Keith’s claim has been wiped away.

Then maybe I’ll believe he’s dead for real this time.


	26. Chapter 26

We don’t get very far before the car hits an invisible wall. My deep sleep is quickly interrupted when I’m thrown from my seat in the car and smash my face into the dashboard. Something is burning. Groaning, I glance up at Sam who’s staring out the windshield with a look of horror on his face. I frown at him about to ask him what’s wrong, when I see Lucifer’s face from the backseat.

His face is dark, furious, even with all his injuries, and he looks terrifying. Like nothing could stop him. I hear a sharp intake of breath and realize after that I did that. “Lucifer?” I croak, bringing a hand to rub against my head, which is now throbbing.

“Amara,” he growls in response, not taking his eyes off the threat. I finally maneuver myself from the car floor back onto the seat to see for myself what’s going on. Amara is standing on the road in front of the car, which has moved approximately seven feet from where it was parked, looking very pleased with herself. She opens her mouth to speak and I glance at Sam, wondering how we are expected to hear her form in here, but she projects her voice perfectly.

“I told you, you can’t leave. I forgot to mention the little sensor I included that tells me if you hit the boundaries I’ve set.” I feel cold. I turn to Sam again as he turns to me.

“Sam, you have to go.”

He gapes at me. “ _What_? I literally rescued you like ten minutes ago. Dean will kill me if you don’t come back with me.”

I glance out the window back at Amara, and judging by the look on her face, I’m on the right track. “She’s not going to let me go. Leverage,” I say with a smirk. “But, the rest of you can go and get help and make a plan and come back and rescue me again, since this seems to be a recurring occurrence. I’ll stay here. Please. You can’t win this fight,” I beg with my best imitation of his puppy dog eyes. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at me, so I reach behind me and open the door. Lucifer grits his teeth and pulls it shut again.

“Princess,” he growls warningly. “Do not get out of this car. I won’t let her harm you again. You are not hers to control.” When I meet his eyes, I see vulnerability there. He’s scared of her, of losing me for some reason, of being tortured again, of losing. So, I smile and bring my hand to his cheek.

“Trust me,” I say softly. To soften the blow even further, I lean forward and kiss his cheek gently before opening the door again and getting out of the car. “If I stay, can they leave?”

Amara seems to think about it. “You know what? I don’t think so.” She waves her hand up at the car and from where I’m standing, it seems like she’s pulling all the oxygen out. Sam and Donatello are both turning blue, but Lucifer seems fine – for now.

When Sam is about to pass out, the car and everyone in it disappear.

I stare dumbly at the spot the car was just in for a long time, blinking hard to make sure I’m not imagining things. Amara screams out in frustration and the man I saw inside comes running out. I look up at him, likely hysterically, and he takes in the scene. Understanding seems to come over him and he gestures to me. He goes back into the building, expecting me to follow him, but Amara beats him to it and appears in front of him.

Furious, she thrusts her hand _into_ his chest. I scream at the same time he does. “The secretary,” she spits out. “No grace, I see. How…refreshing.” Her hand twists and his screams become wordless as the pain becomes too much to bear. Finally, after what feels like hours, she releases him. As blood drips from his mouth, he smirks up at her.

“You’re going to lose,” he rasps out. “God has returned. You will lose again and when he shuts you back in that box, I’ll cheer from my spot in heaven.”

“No,” she says simply. “You won’t.” She opens her mouth and waves her hand and a blue light pours from the man’s mouth and into hers. She inhales it like air and smiles when she finishes. The body drops. “Souls always pack the perfect punch, don’t you think?”

I am now alone with the Darkness. God’s sister. I am going to die.

We stare at each other for another moment before she turns and walks back into the building, leaving me outside. I stare after her, dumbfounded. Ignoring both of the dead bodies that lie on the ground, I stumble after her.

“Amara,” I call quietly, and she stops. She doesn’t turn around but the way she slightly tilts her head tells me that she’s listening. “Why am I here?”

It’s quiet for several minutes while she thinks, and then she turns around. She smiles at me and comes closer so she can cup my face with both her hands. “I really thought that Dean would reject me for you, that you would be nothing but an obstacle, but I see you clearly now. All you’ve had are men telling you what to do, taking control. What you need is freedom, clarity, peace.” She pauses and brings one hand up to run through my hair. “You need me. And I you. That mark…it binds you to me, not the building. I lied to you. And since making it, I’ve felt this…this protectiveness, this urge to care for you. I don’t understand it. But I’m not letting you leave until I understand it.”

My mouth falls open. “ _What_?” I can’t make her words make sense. I’m nobody. I’m just someone the Winchesters happened upon, rescued, and then never got rid of. Now I’m someone that Lucifer has ‘claimed,’ whatever that means, Dean Winchester might love, and _God’s fucking sister_ wants to care for me. My own family barely cared for me this much.

“You’re like me,” she muses. “Never had much, or anyone, who truly heard you and cared about what you had to say. Men have always walked over you and took what they wanted from you without question and you have paid that price. I can see it in your eyes. My brother was the same way, as were my nephews. What I’ve learned since being freed is men want to control it all while women want peace. That’s all I want. Peace from those who harmed me once, from those who harmed you.” Her hand trails down to my chest and she pulls the flannel away from my skin, revealing Keith’s markings. Her face darkens. “I was not…I did not know he would do this. He said he loved you, that he was your uncle. I have an uncle and while he wouldn’t let me do whatever I wanted, I knew he loved me. He never did this. Is this…what is this?”

I shrug. “A claiming, at least to him. He thought I belonged to him and most definitely not in a familial way.” I pause and search her face. “You’re wrong though,” I say softly. “Your brother and your nephews are horrible, but it’s because of the power. They have an almost infinite supply that can do almost anything and that makes someone a little crazy sometimes. But my brother was a wonderful child, he was kind and happy and smart, and I was so proud of him all the time. My dad did everything he could to keep us safe and he literally died for me, thinking I was in danger. But one man, being, whatever having all the power that God has? That Lucifer, Gabriel, all the other angels have? It’s dangerous and that’s when problems arise.”

Amara takes her hand back and tucks the flannel back around my chest. With the hand still cupping my cheek, she pushes warm energy through my body, and I feel so much better when she’s done. My hand is no longer broken and when I glance down at my chest, I can’t see any of the angry red marks Keith dug into my skin.

“You healed me,” I whisper.

“I did. I want to help you, Melissa. I know I hurt you before and I let you get hurt, but I know better now. I’ll even bring you to Dean, if he’ll agree to be mine as well.”

I deflate at that. “As well? You mean…”

She smiles and the room seems to light up. “You have my protection now. You will have anything you need and want for nothing. You may help me shape the world after I destroy this one and rebuild alongside me. I can make you an angel, or something better. Just as I will do with Dean because he and I are the same. But you, you are our complement. I understand now why he would choose you. I am his mirror image; you are his balance. _Our_ balance.”

“So, I can’t go back, can I? Back home, I mean.”

Amara finally drops her hand from my cheek. “Do you want to? What is there for you? There is Dean, who will be with us soon enough; Sam, who means me harm; and Lucifer, who likely means us both harm. What good would going back do?”

I close my eyes. “I just really wanted to be in my own bed and to cook myself dinner and drive Dean’s car again. I was in Hell for _months_ and while I was there, I kept imagining things I would do when I got out. And no matter what, I love Dean and I love Sam and Castiel, and I miss them all terribly. They’re the only family I have left, even if Cas is kind of gone right now.”

“But you have me,” Amara says, tilting her head slightly, reminiscent of Cas. “I do not understand why you would need them.”

“A family isn’t one person, Amara,” I say gently, smiling. “It’s everyone you care about, the people who love you, those who do things that show they care. Maybe you will be my family, but I don’t know you, and I know them. They’ve been there for me for two years now and I can’t just turn my back. People need more than one other person. And probably, so do you.”

“But I have two people, you and Dean. Is that not enough?” The Darkness, God’s sister, looks entirely perplexed by this concept, that I may not be enough for her after a while. Maybe months, years, or even decades, but eventually she will grow tired of me and need an escape. Maybe that can be Dean. Maybe not.

I throw my hands up, frustrated. This conversation immediately derailed from where I thought it would go and now, I’m so far into uncharted territory, I can’t see anything else anymore.

While Amara tries to figure out what her next step is going to be, I try to clean myself up. I go back into the room Keith and I had shared and, ignoring all the blood, continue into the bathroom that had somehow materialized. I drop Sam’s shirt in the sink and let it soak before climbing into the shower. I stand under the spray and stare at the wall listlessly, my brain too full of world-ending beings taking an interest in me. I do feel as though a weight has been lifted from my chest now that Keith is gone, and knowing he hadn’t been dead before, seeing his body was a relief.

I think that makes me a bad person.

I stay in the shower for what feels like hours but is probably only thirty minutes. When the water finally starts to run clear, I shut it off and limp back into the other room. I find my own pants, slightly blood-stained, but wearable, and put Sam’s shirt back on. I also grab my shoes again. Regardless of what Amara decides, I have to get out of here. I’m not meant for this kind of life.

Of course, that’s when all hell breaks loose and God finally decides to get involved. When the red-headed witch calls Amara, I sense the trap immediately and can tell she does too. But, wanting nothing more than to face her brother, she takes my arm and we reappear outside of an abandoned warehouse. Letting go of my arm, she turns to face the witch, who is throwing energy waves or something like that at her. Moments later, I’m cowering behind a stack of pallets left behind because a cloud of demons attacks her alongside the angels. When the smoke clears, I can’t see Amara.

Then I hear the door to the warehouse slam close and I’m on my feet and following her before I can even consider the consequences. All I can think is, _Dean is in there. I can save him_.


	27. Chapter 27

Running into the warehouse was a mistake. I don’t see Lucifer, but Sam and Dean are off to the side. Amara glances at Dean before focusing on a short, scruffy man standing at the far side of the room. When the door slams shut behind me, though, Dean looks over to find me there. He frowns at me and immediately starts mouthing angry words at me, probably telling me to leave. But I’m so relieved seeing him alive and in person that I just _can’t_. Ignoring everyone else in the room, I run to him. Amara doesn’t stop me, but I didn’t expect her to. She has some weird thing for Dean so as long as I’m with him and no one else, I doubt she will intervene. He catches me in his arms and pulls me tight to his body, wrapping one arm around my back and one over my shoulders to hold my head to his chest. My arms snake around his midsection until I can fist my hands in his jacket, eyes closed.

“You shouldn’t be here, sweetheart,” he murmurs into my hair and kisses my forehead. “You should be far, far away from all of this.”

I laugh, but it’s hollow. “I didn’t really have a choice.”

He glances at Amara over my head and tightens his grip. “Did she hurt you? Sam said…he said Keith was there.”

“He was,” I say quietly. “But Lucifer killed him during the rescue.”

Amara screams, drawing our attention back to her. Lucifer, still in Castiel, stands behind her holding a spear that’s pierced her abdomen. He pulls it out and she falls, and he prepares to go in for another strike when the scruffy man shouts. He backs off and glances over to Dean and me, winking at me.

“I’m sorry. For this,” he gestures around the room. “For everything.”

“An apology at last,” she breathes, holding her side, before laughing bitterly. “What’s sorry to me? I spent millions of years crammed into that cage, alone and afraid, wishing, begging for death because of you. And what was my crime, brother?”

_Brother_? I look up at Dean with confusion written all over my face. He leans down and whispers into my ear, “That’s God. He sort of showed up when you were gone and helped us plot a rescue mission and then this attack.”

Amara is speaking again, “You think you made the archangels to bring light? No. You made them to create lesser beings, to make you large, to make you Lord. It was ego. You wanted to be big.”

God sighs and stands up. “That’s true. But it isn’t the whole truth. There's a value, a glory in creation that's greater and truer than my pride or my ego. Call it grace, call it being! Whatever it is, it didn't come from my hands. It was there waiting to be born. It just is, as you and I just were. Since you've been freed, I know that you've seen it. Felt it.” He nods at Dean, who tightens his grips around me when Amara looks over at us too. I feel him gulp, unsure of himself.

“It didn’t have to be like this. I loved you, _brother_ ,” she spits out. “Well, you’ve won again. Finish it. Kill me.” She stands and holds her arms out, reminiscent of a crucifix cross. God’s face falls slightly, and I squint at him.

“I’m sorry,” he says and when Amara’s Mark starts to glow slightly, I jolt out of Dean’s arms.

“No!” we yell in unison. God finally takes notice of me and sighs.

“Melissa, you were never supposed to be here, I’m sorry.” That’s when the brand on my arm starts to burn as well. The pain of it brings me to my knees and my eyesight blurs. When the tears finally start to fall and the pain stops filling every sense I have, Dean is standing in front of me. Amara is holding God by the throat and Lucifer is lying not far from me, unconscious.

“Cas!” Dean shouts and moves towards Amara, but he is thrown backwards as well, hitting a wall somewhere behind me. A grunt of pain is my only indication he’s still awake. Still on my knees, I look up at her in shock, horror, as she turns back to her brother.

“I’d die a million times and murder you a million more before going back there. Tell me, if you won’t change, why should I?” Dark wisps of smoke seem to rise out of the floor, eerily similar to demon smoke, and starts to attack God. Bright light shines out of the spots she hits, and I have to bring an arm up to cover my eyes.

“Amara, no,” Dean yells. She glances over at him briefly, regret in her eyes, then looks down to me. She gives me a bittersweet smile.

“Sorry, brother.” The light spots start to cover God’s body and we all have to close our eyes. When the light dies, God’s body is lying on the floor, looking for all the world like he could be dead.

“No. Amara, what have you done?” Dean chokes out. Unsteadily, I climb to my feet, not taking my eyes off her, but she doesn’t take her eyes off her brother. I take a few steps backwards to Dean and bend down to help him stand.

“He’s dead. God’s…dead,” Sam says shakily. Looking over at him, he’s shellshocked.

“No,” Amara says, finally straightening up and looking me in the eyes. “He’s dying. My brother will dim and fade away into nothing.” I swallow hard, unable to look away from her stare, intense as it is. “But not until he sees what comes next. Not until he watches this world, everything he created, everything he loves turn to ash.” She walks forward, advancing on Dean and I. Dean tries to pull me behind him from where he stands but I feel frozen, like I can’t move. Amara reaches a hand up to my face and strokes the side of it gently. Not letting go, she looks to Dean. “Welcome to the end.”

Everything goes black.

When I come to, I’m lying on my back on a stone walkway. I can’t hear anything and opening my eyes, I see what looks like a dying sun. I sit up, looking around for any sign of life. Amara sits on a bench behind me facing the opposite direction.

“Amara?”

She turns her head slightly, not enough to see me, but enough to indicate she heard me. All around the bench where she sits are flowers that are clearly dead, but shouldn’t be. It’s early summer and the flowers should be blooming, but the sun is dying, and the flowers are dead.

And we are alone.

I struggle to get to my feet as an old woman makes her way into the space. I have no idea where she came from, but I tense, unsure what Amara is going to do. But, to my surprise, she sits and talks with the woman.

“So, you hate him.”

“Well, a little bit,” the woman says, and Amara looks satisfied. But then she continues. “But you know family. Even when you hate them, you love them.”

I smile. Amara turns to look at me. “Is that true? You hated Keith, but did you also love him?” I stiffen at that.

“That’s different,” I say. “He was a monster.”

Amara frowns. “My brother is a monster as well, at least to me. Am I allowed just to hate him, or do I have to love him too?”

“I don’t know, Amara,” I say softly, taking a seat beside her. “I didn’t love Keith at the end because he hurt me in ways family shouldn’t. But before, I loved him so much. And I loved my parents and my little brother, even when we fought. Because for me, my parents wanted to love me so much that they put themselves through hell to have a baby, raise the baby, and then go through all my trauma with me. My baby brother was so young and all he wanted to do was love me and be loved by me. It was easy and simple, and I did it. I love him still, all of them, even though I hate the secrets my dad kept from me and I hate my mom because the last thing we ever talked about was an argument and I hate my brother because he was too young. But I love them, and it’s the same with my new family.”

I pause, trying to understand my own thought process here. “Sam and Dean…they took me from my home and changed everything I thought I knew. I hated them for that while loving them for keeping me safe. I loved Cas for going to protect my mom and brother, and hated him viciously for leaving them to die. Sam killed my dad and I still hate him for that sometimes, but then he also killed Keith and I love him for that. Dean…Dean has hurt me in ways I can’t explain but he’s also loved me in ways I had never been loved before. He’s taught me so much, about life, about what is really out there, about myself, and about family. It doesn’t end in blood, Amara, that’s what their uncle always said. But it should start there.” I reach over and take her hand. “Take it from me. Even if I was fighting with my brother, even when Sam and Dean fight and they fight all the time, I would give _anything_ to have him here with me and I know the boys feel the same. That’s why we’re in this mess to begin with. Your brother is out there and he’s sorry. Maybe it’s millions of years too late, but for beings like you, that’s not that long. Don’t you want someone with you for the next million years?”

The old woman is long gone by now. Amara stands and begins to pace around the garden, obviously thinking hard about something. “Do you not want to be with me?”

That’s not what I expected her to say. “What?”

“You’re trying to get me to forgive my brother, but what about you? Where will you go?”

“I don’t know, maybe I’ll finally go home now that Keith is gone. Pick up the pieces of my life there. Or I’ll go to Dean. But I won’t stand in the way of God and his sister.” I smile at her again, trying to show her that I really do mean that. Sure, we’ve developed some kind of bond and she feels something for me that makes her want to protect me and keep me close, but I can’t help helping her. Her brother may be dying but he’s not dead yet.

Suddenly, Amara disappears. I frantically look around me, trying to figure out where she could have gone and see Dean at the end of one of the paths out of the garden. Dean, looking lost and broken. Dean, my anchor, my saviour. “Dean,” I cry out and lurch to my feet. Once more, I run into his arms and sob onto his chest.

All too soon, though, he pushes me away. He brings one hand up to my face and brushes away a tear. He opens his mouth to speak but instead we hear words from behind us.

“Dean. How did you find me?” Dean is looking over my head at Amara and his hand starts to shake slightly. He gently pushes me to the side and uses his eyes to beg me to stay put.

“Does it matter?” He takes a few steps forward. “I’m here to give you what you want. Me.”

It feels like I’ve just been hit by a truck. “What?” I choke out. “Dean, you…you can’t just…”

Amara’s eyes narrow as she looks to me, then back at Dean. “That’s a change.”

Dean’s hands fidget by his side as he walks towards her. “Well, I can’t just stand by and watch the world, my friends,” he looks at me over his shoulder with a look of longing written all over his face, “and my family die. So, if becoming a part of you takes me away from that, then I’m in.”

“You…and that bomb in your chest?”

_What_? The look on Dean’s face immediately confirms what she’s just said. I take a step back as he stops moving. “Dean?” I ask shakily. He looks over to me and mouths _I’m sorry_. My eyes fill with tears and I take another step back, before I find myself at Amara’s side.

“Do you think I can’t taste the power coming off of you? Please. The problem is, you’ve never been able to hurt me. Or her,” she says, placing her hand on my shoulder. I feel like I can’t breathe, caught between a rock and a _bomb_. “So, what makes this time any different?”

He licks his lips and pulls his lower lip in between his teeth before answering. “I don’t have a choice. What you’re doing to the sun – “

“That’s not me.” My head turns to the side to stare at her as Dean’s face falls. “With my brother getting weaker, the scales are tipping away from light.”

Understanding fills his face. “And into darkness.”

Amara shakes her head. “Into nothing. When God’s gone, the universe – everything will cease to exist. Including me.

My blood runs cold and I pull away from her. “You – that’s not what you said. You said – you told me Dean and I – that we’d be fine! You were lying, you lied to me this whole time, why? So, you could have someone on your side? Someone who listened to you? But…” I can feel the panic setting in, the hyperventilating taking over my breathing.

Amara looks at me sadly. “My brother betrayed me,” she says softly. “He locked me away for billions of years. He sent you to execute me.” She turns back to Dean as she says this but he’s already shaking his head.

“No, no. He zapped me here, yes, but he didn’t want this. This wasn’t his idea. You’re family. He doesn’t want you dead. He doesn’t want any of this! Is this what you wanted?”

“No,” she yells. “You were right, Melissa. All that talk about family and love and you were right all along. I didn’t want to believe you.” She sighs. “I just wanted to hurt him, make him pay.”

Dean nods. “Yeah, that’s revenge.” While Dean talks, I watch Amara. She’s tensing up while he talks and even rolls her eyes. When he starts to walk closer to her, she narrows her eyes and scoffs at what he says, but I can see the truth.

She doesn’t want it to be like this. She wants her brother, that’s all she’s wanted this entire time. It’s why she latched onto Dean and me. That’s why I’m not surprised at all when God suddenly appears next to me. When they start to talk through their issues, I glance over at Dean, who looks nervous. _The bomb_.

I gasp quietly when I remember the danger we’re all in. Dean’s eyes shoot to my face and both God and Amara turn to face me. “Melissa,” God starts, but I cut him off, shaking my head.

“Fix him,” I say pointing to Dean, tears filling my eyes. “Fix him, he can’t blow up. You have to fix him, please.” God immediately walks to Dean and places his hand on his chest. They both glow slightly, and I see Dean’s face scrunch up in pain, but then God comes back and Dean looks relieved.

“What about us? What about earth?” Dean asks.

God smiles. “Earth will be fine. It’s got you and Sam.” He looks at me. “And you, my dear. You’ll keep Earth safe too. But first…” He puts one hand on my shoulder and the other on my face, and I feel the familiar heat of divine healing. I squint at him, not sure what happened to me that _God himself_ felt the need to heal.

God takes Amara’s hand while she talks to Dean and smiles again. “Look under the top of your shirt,” he whispers. I pull my shirt away from my body, keeping an eye on him at first, and gasp. The skin is completely fresh, no marks, no scars, no brands. Keith’s words are no more. The relief is overwhelming and when God and Amara finally disappear, I’m still staring down my shirt.

At my healed chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been having some really bad writer's block when it comes to this story to be honest. On the other hand, it's been getting me to write more in a book I'm hoping to publish one day about my soap-opera-style life. 
> 
> Anyways, I'm thinking this story will have one/two more chapters before it ends but there will be more.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! So, sorry for the long long wait, but life got pretty messy here. I got sick right after our thanksgiving last month and then had to work crazy hours to make up the money that I desperately needed for bills. Then, my father-in-law came down with COVID so that's been a real problem lately.   
> But I also got a promotion at my current retail job and an offer to be a substitute teacher here in BC so that's fantastic and has been taking my attention away.   
> Anyways, I kind of lost my track on this story, so tried to wrap it up nicely. I think I'll end up coming with a sequel and maybe even a prequel, but I have to get my shit together first. Thanks for sticking with me, and I love hearing from y'all. I also really love being able to tell my partner that so many people have read something I put my heart into because this is a first for me, but I really want to publish a book in the future about my life. I can't tell you guys how much this means to me.
> 
> Thank you v much <3

Dean and I stumble through the trees surrounding the park in shocked silence. I can’t quite wrap my head around what I just witnessed, or that God himself decided he should heal the wounds I had. The horrible words left on my skin. Dean seems to be reeling from what Amara said to him, but I have no idea what it was.

It’s when we reach the edge of the trees that I realize what happened.

There’s a blond woman standing in her nightgown, looking around wildly, calling for help. I stop and stare at her open-mouthed because she looks familiar, but there’s no way it could be her. That’s what I’m thinking, anyways, when Dean stops in front of me.

“Mom?” he says breathlessly. My eyes dart over to him. She turns and stares at us, shaking her head vigorously.

“No, I…My name is Mary Winchester. I have two boys,” she squints at Dean. “But you look familiar…have we met?”

Dean swallows hard. “Yeah,” he croaks. “We met a long time ago, in 1978. You were pregnant with me – Dean. Your oldest son. You might not remember that though, it’s been a long time.”

“How long?” she asks with narrowed eyes.

“Thirty-three years,” he whispers.

Mary steps backwards, mouth gaping. “What? It’s…you mean it’s 2011?”

Dean is still staring at his mother with tears in his eyes, so I take a step forward, drawing both of their attention. “No,” I say gently. “It’s 2016. You died in 1983, after your younger son, Sam, was born. Do you remember that?”

Her face shows me everything I need to know. “The fire,” she mutters, then gasps. “Sammy! Is – did he – is he okay?”

I smile and take Dean’s hand. “Yeah, he’s great. He and Dean, they saved the world today, _again_. They’re amazing.”

Dean squeezes my hand and takes another small step forward, but this time Mary doesn’t move away. “Mom,” he says with a broken voice. “I can explain everything, but it’s dark and late and you’re probably cold. We should go.” She looks between us for a few seconds before deciding she can trust us and nods. “Okay. Melissa, do you have any idea where we are?”

I shake my head. “Not a fucking clue, but I haven’t known where I am for a long time now. I just roll with the punches.”

Dean rolls his eyes and let go of my hand to wrap his arm around my waist and pull me closer. He kisses the top of my head. “I missed you. I’m so, so glad you’re safe, I was so worried. Are you okay?”

I press closer into his side as we walk. “I’m here, Dean. That’s all I needed. My skin is healed, Keith is dead, you and Sam are safe and alive, and even your mom is here. I…I couldn’t ask for much more.” I pause, my eyes filling with tears as I realize what I could have had. “Why wouldn’t she bring my family back?” I ask quietly, tears blocking my throat.

Dean stops and turns to face me before pulling me into his chest, one arm wrapped around my back and the other hand holding my head to him. It’s the safest and most loved I’ve felt in a long time. “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers. “I don’t know why, but I’m here and so are Sam and Cas. I promise.” His hand rubs my back soothingly as I sob into his chest, and before I know what’s happening, he’s picked me up into a bridal carry to allow me to grieve while still moving. Mary isn’t far behind us and has been watching our conversation with a sharp eye. I’m too broken to care right now.

I’m thrilled that Dean gets his family back and will finally get to know his mother, but I was never supposed to be part of this and my entire family died. Why couldn’t Amara have brought them back? It’s these depressing thoughts that I fall asleep to, finally succumbing to my days-long exhaustion.

When I wake up, I’m lying in Dean’s bed back in the Batcave. Rubbing my eyes to get the sleep out of them, I’m surprised by how rested I feel. But Dean isn’t here with me, so I quickly throw on some sweats and a t-shirt and go out to the library to find him or Sam.

When I get there, Mary is pointing a gun at Castiel, who seems completely unperturbed. But his facial expression is so _Cas_ that I immediately run to him.

“Cas!” I yell as I wrap my arms around him. It takes him a while to catch up but eventually his arms come up around me as well. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” I murmur into his coat. “I thought Lucifer would kill you, or that Amara would. I was so scared.”

He pulls me back from him and smiles kindly. “I am fine, Melissa, but thank you for your concern. I am also glad you’re alright.”

“Melissa,” Mary snaps. I spin around to look at her, but seeing that her gun is still raised, I don’t move. “Get out of the way! I don’t know what that thing is, but it appeared out of nowhere.”

“Mary,” I say, putting my hands up, “this is Castiel. I think Dean mentioned him to you, he’s an angel. He’s our friend.”

“I’m here to help find Sam,” Cas cuts in helpfully.

“Yeah, he’s here to – what?” I look over my shoulder at him. “You’re here to _what_? Where’s Sam?”

“He’s gone,” Dean says from the doorway. “Mom put the gun down. It wouldn’t hurt him anyways. Melissa, can you help me hack into the highway cameras? I want to see if anything got the vehicle they would have taken Sam in.”

My head is spinning. “Who? What are you talking about? Sam has to be here somewhere.” That’s when my eyes find the blood on the floor of the war room and the sigil painted on the wall in the library. It feels like my stomach drops out of my body and I look at Dean. “Who could have taken him?” I ask, hopelessness filling my body.

He sets his mouth and comes over to wrap his arms around me tightly. He pulls back and presses a gentle kiss to my lips. “We’re gonna find him, sweetheart, I promise. Nobody messes with the Winchesters.”

I give him a half smile. “Yeah, you guys are pretty badass.”

Dean shakes his head. “You too, princess. You’re a Winchester too, just like Cas here. So let’s go get our Sammy back.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story!! I have no idea how often it'll be updated (I just moved across the country - shit's wild) but I hope y'all like it!


End file.
